


Matzo Hussies

by Pan (Wingedchester_67)



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Asexual Kyle Broflovski, M/M, Pansexual Kenny McCormick, Princess Kenny McCormick, Unrequited Love, brief relationships with random original characters when Kenny wants to get laid, the 4th graders are 20, turned requited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingedchester_67/pseuds/Pan
Summary: The Matzo Ball. On Christmas Eve, Jewish youths can enjoy the extended winter break by attending the Matzo Ball, a meet-market/dating pen of all the eligible Jewish youths in your area! Goys welcome! Kyle never planned to go to the Denver Matzo Ball in his lifetime, but obviously, his mother has other ideas. Now, he's roped Kenny into coming with, in hopes of making the Ball a little less insufferable.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Meshuga

**Author's Note:**

> Am I writing a Hanukkah/Christmas fic in October? Yes. Do I care? No.
> 
> ABOUT THE SPELLING. Look, I can deal with changing "mum" into "mom" and "grey" into "grey," BUT DON'T TAKE AWAY MY U IN COLOUR YOU AMERICAN HEATHENS. I JUST CAN'T DO IT. I WOULD RATHER SET FIRE TO MY KEYBOARD THAN USE REALI'Z'ED. So for consistency's sake, I've switched all the 'Mom's back into "Mum's so my grammar checker doesn't have a fit. Also, I realise a lot of my writing can end up ... repetitive. AND I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE.
> 
> Ahem, in other words, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE correct me on anything if you are actually Jewish. I'm Asian, and so while I can relate to having an insufferable mother, and I've heard the admittedly racist inside Asian joke "I married a Jewish man, that's practically Asian." I am in fact, not greatly well versed in Jewish culture/a typical Jewish home life. Like, in everyday life my mother might call one of my white friends a 'gwai lou,' but I don't know for sure if that's the same in an American-Jewish setting where random Hebrew/Yiddish 'goy' just gets sprinkled into everyday conversations like in my bilingual Asian home.
> 
> ABOUT THE DENVER MATZO BALL. Apparently, there was a Matzo Ball in Denver specifically in 2013, but I haven't found anything about one since the mid-2010s. But in my piece of fictional work, they have faithfully had one every year since the 1990s, and continue on into ... whatever year you're reading this! Also please let me know if I'm getting the Matzo Ball completely and totally wrong if you've ever been to one yourself! I might change some details about the venue/ball if it's not as 'extra' as I've found from random cosmopolitan web articles to describe, but unfortunately, if I've just completely missed the ballpark on what a Matzo Ball is like, I'm very sorry and apologise profusely. Just pretend its some other, fancy, fictional Jewish social event under the same name if this is the case. Or let me know if I'm being culturally insensitive and need to change the name! I really don't know the first thing about a Matzo Ball. I'm just writing from a place of strict, frugal parents like what I imagine Kyle's to be like, if Asian parents and Jewish parents are believed to be cut from the same cloth.

On December twenty-third, the families of South Park were well into their festive celebrations. Snow fell on the quaint little town adorned in swaths of red, white and green, as most businesses closed up shop early, wishing their employees a Merry Christmas as they loaded up on booze for some holiday fun and headed back home to their families to celebrate the birth of Jesus or something As the greeted their snotty little kids, celebrators donned their flimsy antlers on headbands, felted elf hats, faux furred Santa beards, and other such tacky headwear. Garlands and tinsel were festively draped neck-deep over every snow sprinkled surface. The town square was now home to Santa’s workshop, where plastic reindeer were parked next to the old paint-chipped sled upon which some unfortunate out of work actor posed in a jolly red suit next to screaming children and their stressed-out parents.

Normally at this time of year, the only Jewish family in town would be in the midst of their own _Hanukkah_ celebrations, with a certain hot-tempered redhead bemoaning his arbitrary exclusion from the Judeo-Christian festivities to his asshole friends on the side of the road next to the local bus stop. However, this year he was bemoaning Sheila Broflovski’s latest and greatest schemes, in getting her son set up with a nice Jewish girl to settle down and start making her grandchildren. She was telling him it was high time that Kyle Broflovski _met someone._

“But mum, I don’t _want_ to go to Denver for some _stupid_ ball! All my friends are here in South Park for the holidays, and I came back home to spend some time with them. Why are you making me go to Denver to meet some … _hussie_ for one night?” Kyle complained, and with good reason.

Here he was, exhausted and jetlagged from his trip back from Princeton university, not even three steps into the house, before his mother had sprung her trap. Held in her hands were several glamorous, expensive-looking silver foiled pieces of paper. They were tickets to the biggest Jewish social event in the state. They were tickets to the Denver Matzo Ball. Kyle, who wasn’t a big fan of weirdly insular Jewish social events, made a face at the offending tickets and attempted to push his mother’s hand away. Sheila Brovflovski was not impressed with her son’s attitude and said as such. 

“That’s enough out of you Kyle! The Matzo Ball is a very prestigious and respectable event. There will be some very nice girls who’ll be going this year, and I don’t want to hear you called any of them hussies! That would look very bad for our family.” Sheila chided, smacking the top of Kyle’s head with the tickets. Kyle reflexively rubbed the top of his head even as the paper brushed over the top of his head harmlessly. “Besides, there’s much more to these events than simply, ‘hooking up’ as you say,” his mother said, emphasizing ‘hooking up’ in an almost palpable disdain.

“It’s also a chance to socialize, to network with influential people of your own age,” Sheila said, sounding like she was reading off the official Matzo Ball brochure. “And you never know,” she said her lip curling in a hint-hint, nudge-nudge sort of grin. “You could meet your future significant other you’re going to have a family with at the Matzo Ball like so many Jewish youths before you! Why your father and I met at the New Jersey Matzo Ball ourselves and had a lovely time together before having you! Are you telling me you think your father and I were hussies?”

Kyle sent her a significant look. “You got unexpectedly pregnant with me, fled from New Jersey to South Park to raise me up and you went by the moniker _‘S-Wow Tittybang’_. Mum, I think I reserve the right to call you a Matzo-hussie.”

 _“Kyle!”_ Sheila scolded. “You _will_ go to the Denver Matzo Ball tomorrow night and you _will_ dress nicely for the occasion. This is not a suggestion I am telling you as your _mother,_ " she said with finality.

Kyle gaped like a fish for several seconds, even as his face flushed at the indignity of the situation.

Sheila Broflovski then smoothed hair neatly back into its towering beehive, having been slightly dishevelled in the heat of the argument, and then put her hands on her hips matter of factly. "Besides, as you can see I already bought the tickets. There’s no refund policy, so unless you want to waste your poor ailing mother’s money you’ll go.” Kyle eyed the paper tickets in her hand warily. “There are five tickets.”

“Yes!” She said brightly. “I wanted tonight to be special if you’re going to meet someone Kyle, so I bought you the Silver Table five ticket package to go with your cousin and his friends Audra, Alec, and Levy. The Silver Package costs six hundred dollars, so you are going to Denver Kyle, and that is _final!_ ”

Kyle opened and closed his mouth wordlessly for what felt like minutes. _“S-six hundred dollars?”_ He gasped. Apparently, his mother was disturbingly invested in getting her son laid. “But what about _my_ friends?” He asked, not willing to give up just yet. “I came back from Princeton to spend time with you guys and my friends over winter break. I haven’t seen them since-”

“Since your last school break.” Sheila finished for him dismissively. She moved to where Kyle had set his bags down by the doorstep and started rifling through them, picking through his college get-ups to find things more fitting for a semi-formal outing.

“ _No,”_ Kyle said, exasperated. “If you remember Ma, I stayed on campus over spring break to study!” He said, snatching his bag back from his mother’s prying paws. He could put away his bags himself without his mother inserting herself into every crevice of his existence thanks. “I haven’t seen the guys for literally over half a year! I don’t want to _then_ go to some stupid uptight Jewish party with no one to talk to.”

She couldn’t do this to him. He already got into a good university like his mother wanted him to. He enrolled in the pre-law program like his mother wanted him to. He maintained his five-point oh G.P.A diligently and gave up any semblance of a social life on campus to make his mother proud of him. All he wanted to do when he got back to South Park on winter break was kick back his feet, relax, and eat shitty Chinese food with his friends at City Wok. He hadn't even gotten the chance to see his own little brother yet. Instead, he was being told he would be spending Christmas Eve in some overly crowded, overly stuffy, uptight Jewish get-together with his hypochondriac cousin Kyle Schwartz. 

Sheila tutted at him knowingly. “Don’t you worry Kyle, you’ll have the rest of Winter break to catch up with your friends after you come back from Denver. And you won’t have no one to talk to you silly goose,” his mother laughed. “You’ll have your cousin and his friends to talk to if you don’t end up meeting anyone interesting at the Ball. I won’t hear another word about it. Unless you plan on reimbursing your part of the six hundred dollar group ticket, you are _going_ Kyle.”

Kyle wanted to protest, he wanted to yell that his mother never listened to him even when he legally became an adult and moved out of the house. He would have coughed up the cash and slammed his fist on the counter, money in hand right then and there if he had any to spare. But studying full time in a college campus on the east coast wasn’t exactly cheap. And the demanding pre-law degree meant that Kyle didn’t have any time to get a part-time job while studying and was still reliant on his parents sending him a modest living allowance every week or so, even with his relatively frugal lifestyle. He didn’t have any money to spare to refund his parents' stupid ball ticket. Sensing she'd won the argument, Sheila Broflovski went about more preparations for her little _bubale's_ big day.

Kyle slumped in on himself defeatedly. He couldn't believe it. His mother had always been a bit ambitious and controlling, but now she held exactly zero regard for Kyle's thoughts and opinions for his own fucking life. A stormy scowl flashed across his face and Kyle kicked off his shoes by the mat and angrily hoisted his bags over his back. The worn, faded, familiar, green carpeting of home did little to comfort him as Kyle thundered up to his childhood room. Instead, it made him feel small and powerless again. Like he was regressing into a child and had never left. He threw open his bedroom door and tossed the bags into a corner, screaming quietly to himself in frustration as he punched the primly fluffed pillow that sat on his bed. Thankfully, he had at least enough of a mind to not childishly slam the door behind him, or it might’ve sent his mother up after him to reprimand him for slamming doors in her house, and Kyle didn’t think he could look at his mother right now without hitting something.

His room looked almost exactly how Kyle had left it. Granted the last time he saw it had been summer, but it also looked _off_ now. The books were immaculately stacked and organised. His desk was no longer cluttered but cleared of everything other than his old lamp and pencil cup. His computer was dust-free. The only things that seemed untouched were the old and peeling posters on the wall. Things were… too perfect. Too clean. His room felt unlived in. It felt foreign. Like someone had recreated his room based on a picture they had, but they had failed to get the personal, lived-in touches that made it _Kyle's_ room. There was a knock at the door, causing Kyle to pause in tearing out his hair and glance over. His brother poked in his raven-haired head cautiously.

“You know, I told her you wouldn’t want to go.”

“Shut up Ike,” Kyle snapped. “I just don’t get why she felt the need to ruin my winter break and not even have the decency to tell me about it in advance."

Ike rolled his eyes and leaned on the doorframe casually. His lanky fifteen-year-old body had been shooting up like a weed lately, and he was wearing Kyle's old basketball shirt. It looked a little uncanny, like Kyle could see this reflection of his younger self looking back at him in his room. Albeit a conceited, Republican version of himself with tameable dark hair and Canadian heritage.

"Probably because she knew you'd react exactly like this. Besides, you'll only be gone for like what, two days? You have the whole rest of winter break to wish Mum and Dad a happy new year and hang out with your lame friends."

"So? That’s not the point.” Kyle snapped angrily. “What gives her the right to have precedence over every little thing in my life? Why does she have to stick her nose into everything, even my dating life, like this? It’s my life to lead and if I don’t want to get wasted at some big-city shindig to bang a ‘nice Jewish girl’ then that’s _my_ business and not hers. It doesn’t mean she somehow failed as a parent or whatever just because I don't want to give her grandkids yet. I’m fucking twenty! You’d think she’d be happy enough I finally fulfilled her dreams of living through my life vicariously by getting into an Ivy League university law program without knocking up some college bimbo, most parents would be over the moon with something like that. But no, nothing is ever good enough for her.” Kyle fumed.

He began unpacking by pulling the books and study materials for his winter break homework and started slamming them on the desk with a dull thump. The pens in the cup rattled with every impact and loose-leaf paper went flying everywhere. "Fuck," Kyle muttered and began collecting the paper. 

Ike unhelpfully looked at Kyle collecting the stray sheets of paper impassively. “You know she just wants to set you up for success later in life-” Ike started, but Kyle cut him off, venom flashing in his eyes. 

“I know that Ike! You think I don’t know that?" he snarled. Ike backed off, holding his hands in front of him placatingly at Kyle's righteous fury. "But I just wish for _once_ she'd be happy with what I have achieved so far, instead of just setting up the next step in the grand plan of ‘Kyle Broflovski’s perfect Jewish life.’ and trying to fast-track me through it. It’s suffocating and it’s like I’m not allowed to be my own person in my own goddamn life.” Kyle groaned and pulled his hair through his fingers and he sat on the bed in defeat. He dropped the collected papers, abandoned in a haphazard mess at his feet.

“And I feel like I can’t even get mad at her for it because she’s not technically doing anything _wrong_ as a parent other than being borderline overbearing.” he finished miserably. He let his fingers fall to his lap as he looked at his big, knobbly, powerless hands. His life was a rigid structure of big plans and expectations. It was also completely out of his control.

Ike gently traipsed across the room and sat on the comforter next to his brother, and lightly hugged him. Kyle started, looking at Ike oddly. They hadn't done this since he was twelve, with Ike pulling away from his uncool older brother as he got older. It was… nice to say the least. Kyle felt slightly less like he was going to commit arson from the comfort. 

“Hey, if anyone can understand how you’re feeling bro, it’s me,” Ike said softly. “I know how mum can get sometimes, and you’re not crazy. It’s not just overbearing, it’s straight _controlling_ and _not_ right dude. You’re right to be mad. Hell, she doesn’t even listen to me when I tell her I don’t want to do the local Mathletes program and I only got out of it by agreeing to join the school newspaper team instead. When you call something like _that_ a compromise, you know it’s not really a compromise at all.”

Knowing that intellectually and then having his thoughts echoed back at him by his younger brother vindicating all his pent up feelings and frustrations did make Kyle feel marginally better so that at least he wasn’t tearing his hair out. But it still didn’t alleviate the gross feeling of imminent doom hanging over him over the prospect of attending the Denver Matzo Ball.

“Hey,” Ike elbowed him, sensing Kyle’s lingering dour mood. Kyle pulled back from the hug to look at him curiously. “If you really don’t wanna go, I can ‘fall on some ice’ tomorrow during morning hockey practice or something and refuse to let anyone help me but you. If you really want.” he offered. 

The offer was almost tempting, but Kyle couldn't ask that of his little brother. He smiled sadly and shook his head. “And make you miss hockey practice? No way dude, I know how much you love hockey, and your team would be dead in the water without you there. Plus, you heard mum. She and Aunt Sarah spent six hundred fucking dollars on this thing. I can’t just skip something like that. That’s just too much money to just bail out on.”

Ike snorted. “God Kyle, if Cartman heard that, you know he’d be ripping on you already for being such a Jew.”

Kyle shoved his brother off his bed. Ike let out an "oof" and landed on the floor with a laugh, it was worth it. “Shut up, brat. Or I’ll tell mum you’re living up to a self-loathing stereotype,” he said with a good-natured grin.

Ike dusted himself off from Kyle’s bedroom floor and shoved him back playfully. “Well, I’d rather see you pissed at me than all mopey from mum’s bullshit. Go call your dumb friends, I gotta go call my friends and we’re gonna stream some games. So don’t go bursting into my room and embarrassing me in front of my subs okay?”

Kyle laughed. He didn’t really get the appeal in just watching someone play games for literally six-hour streams on end, but apparently, his brother and his friends had found an audience for that sort of thing on the internet. “Okay, later twerp.”

“Boomer.”

Kyle threw a pillow at his retreating brother’s back but Ike had already closed the door behind him, leaving Kyle's projectile thumping uselessly against the old wood.

“Stop using that term wrong! A boomer is literally someone born between the fifties and the sixties, you can’t just go around calling every person over the age of eighteen a fucking boomer you fucking cretin!” he yelled. But Kyle knew it was useless. Words have no reverence in this day and age, and according to the young’ uns everyone capable of growing facial hair qualified as a boomer. And so, Kyle was resigned to his life as an old person at the tender age of twenty.

Sighing to himself, Kyle sat at his desk, yanked on a pair of gaming headphones, and turned on his computer to open up a group video call with his friends. Well, he wasn’t quite sure why Cartman was still in the group chat, but he already hit the call button and he really couldn’t be bothered to switch to the private group chat that _didn’t_ include Cartman in the list of participants. Besides, Cartman would see the call logs and it was too late to hang up now.

Soon, the faces of Stan, Cartman, and Kenny appeared in little ten-eighty pixel windows on his screen. Stan was petting his greying dog, and Kenny and Cartman looked like they had just finished having some family dinner. Or maybe it was desert for Cartman knowing him. 

“Dude, Kyle. You’re back in town today? Sweet!” Stan greeted with a wave. “Does that mean you’re coming over soon?”

“Yo Ky, nice to see you still live,” Kenny said with a smile. "Still rocking the city college campus look I see."

“Oh great. Just when I thought we finally got rid of you for good,” was Cartman’s greeting.

Despite video calling almost every other day for the past half-year Kyle still couldn’t really believe how much his friends have changed since he started college.

Stan had really filled out as a football jock, leading a much more physically involved lifestyle, but he traded that life studying marine biology with Wendy in Virginia. He now wore a douchey varsity jacket over a black and red-trimmed white t-shirt. He also wore a navy beanie that sported several pins supporting causes like saving the dolphins, ending animal lab testing and the like. Stan had also taken to using a curved razor, leaving him with a distinguished rugged look of stubble when he shaved. When he managed to grow any facial hair at all that is. Still eager to please other people and be the centre of attention, Stan looked like he was straight out of a college campus sports scholarship leaflet.

Cartman was marginally less disgusting than when Kyle had last seen him in person, although that might just be the optimism talking here. He might’ve lost ten pounds total, or it was just the new clothes his mother bought him to fit in with the academy police force he had joined. Unfortunately, it looked like he had somehow managed to skimp off on the physical training based on some bullshit medical excuse he had. Cartman would probably someday swindle himself into the White House, and that was the day Kyle Broflovski was _not_ looking forward to. He had tried to grow out a beard to frame his neck fat and carve out an imagined jawline. Fortunately for everyone involved, Eric proved to be a patchy beard grower.

Kenny had retired his oversized orange parkas back in highschool on Kyle’s behest for a much more casual burnt orange contrast panel hoodie with some fashionable, yet functional patches where the fabric had worn through. He still wore ripped jeans like a hellion though. Growing up from poverty, Kenny made the most out of what clothes he and his family got. He had a very distinct style of fashion, that style being wearing clothes until they literally fell off his back. And so, when repairing clothes Kenny often had to get creative, which inspired Karen to think about enrolling into a fashion design course in community college, with a focus on street fashion. Kenny’s freckles had also faded from when Kyle had seen Kenny last, and his hair had darkened with the winter season. He still had a boyish twink face, however, and loved to show it off by shaving his face as smooth as a baby’s buttocks. Unfortunately for Kyle, it seemed their unofficial growing competition was drawing to a close and had cemented Kyle's place as the shortest of their friend group.

“Hey dudes,” Kyle replied. “Yeah, I’m back in town for winter break. Or at least I was supposed to be.”

Stan shifted closer to his screen, troubled. “Supposed to be? What happened? I thought we were gonna hang out at City Wok when you got back?”

“Yeah, interrupting our very important Judeo-Christian traditions to hang out at a godless Chinese restaurant to welcome your Jew ass back among our lives. I can’t believe I’m interrupting my precious family bonding time with my _Meem_ just ‘cause you decided to live in Jersey willingly for six years, Jesus.”

“Well,” Kyle interrupted, before Cartman could run his mouth _kvetching_ too long and ruin his already shitty night. His eyebrow was already beginning to twitch irritably. “Turns out my mother made plans without telling me and I’m going to be shipped to Denver for Christmas Eve with my weak ass cousin." he thumped his head against his desk, jolting the webcam perched on the monitor crooked. "Save me, dudes, I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” 

“Wait, you’re going to _Denver_ for Christmas Eve? Like the whole night? _Why?”_ Stan asked. He looked hurt, looking sad with his sensitive, stupid, puppy eyes, and Kyle wanted to apologise profusely even though it wasn't even his fault. He knew Stan especially had really been looking forward to hanging out again after spending so much time apart. The two had been nigh inseparable from kindergarten and college was a big reality check for them when they suddenly couldn't constantly watch each other's back. 

“She’s pushing me to go to this stupid Matzo Ball.” Kyle groaned. He threw his head into his arms, massaging the temples to combat his cresting headache. 

“Matzo what?” Kenny asked, puzzled. Cartman looked mildly disinterested. Like he could care less about the details for Jewish socialization.

“Matzo Ball. It’s like a big kosher meet-market party in the city for Jewish singles to meet and hook up. It’s totally just sticking a bunch of horny eligible bachelors and bachelorettes into a room until some of them fuck and maybe even stay together. They like to say it’s a party to make it easier for Jewish people to network and meet other Jews, and it is, but everyone knows it’s also really a big dating pen.”

Kenny choked in on himself and started guffawing, laughing like a hyena. Stan merely looked perplexed. Sympathetic, but perplexed. When Kenny had finally calmed down to merely sniggering into his hoodie, he finally managed to comment. “A kosher _meat-market_? Score."

Kyle rolled his eyes and pinched his nose. "Fucking hell Kenny, when you say it _that_ way… " 

Cartman looked like someone had shoved a salad down his throat. “A breeding pen for Jews? Who in their right mind would let your people breed? That is the worst sort of _evil_ -”

 _“Shut up Cartman,”_ Stan interrupted, looking at him warningly.

Kyle nodded thankfully at Stan. He didn’t know if he could take Cartman’s shitty anti-Semitic bullshit on top of all this, so it was nice someone cut him off early. Really though he should’ve known nothing good would have come from involving Cartman in a discussion about Jewish social events.

Once it seemed that Cartman wasn’t about to start spouting anything offensive immediately, Stan's glare faded and he shrugged and looked helplessly at Kyle. “Dude, I dunno, that doesn’t sound that bad. Maybe it could even be kind of fun. How big even is this party?” his innocent question rang from the tinny computer speakers. 

“It goes from nine, till three am. Usually over a thousand Jews attend.” Kyle deadpanned.

Stan choked and started thumping himself on the chest as the elderly Sparky started barking at him in alarm while Kenny let out a low whistle. “That’s a lotta bangin’,” he said, with a flirtatious look, making suggestive jumps with his eyebrows.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Kyle said, exasperated. “The whole place is going to stink of BO, alcohol, and semi-public sex, and that’s the last thing I need on a Christmas Eve.” Stan looked sympathetically at him. He knew from many a disapproving rant how much Kyle despised parties whenever Stan or Kenny got wasted at one. Kenny however, chose to make light of the situation. 

“Oh no, Kyle may actually have fun and get laid tomorrow night, someone alert the press.” Kenny joked. 

"Think of it this way Ky, you missed out on all your chances to get drunk off your face during our high school parties and being busy with college, so now you can make up for it by attending this big Jewish orgy with equally repressed and nerdy sticks in the mud. Win, win."

“This isn’t funny Kenny!” Kyle cried, “All through my life I’ve avoided my mother egging me to go to these stupid Jewish _schmooze_ events _precisely_ because I know that it’s just the worst sort of real-life Tinder experience I don’t want to have except everyone happens to be Jewish! And now I have to go there with my cousin Schwartz! Dude, I’m not gonna make it. I’m not gonna last the night where the only people I can talk to are my dysfunctional hypochondriac cousin and a bunch of horny Jewish singles. I'll set the place on fire and they'll arrest me for mass arson and I'll be locked up for twenty-five years without parole. Just kill me now. End me. Pick out a gun and make it quick.”

“What, what, _what?!”_ the telltale shriek of Kyle’s mother was heard from the other end of the hallway, over Cartman’s typical “well, if you’re offering,” comment. Kyle muted his microphone and skewed his headphones off to one side to better catch the sounds of the outside world. He looked over to the door, There was a pregnant silence before the panicky murmurings of Kyle's mother could be heard coming from beyond the thin walls.

He unmuted himself. “Hold up dudes, I think something’s going on with Ma,” Kyle said into the mic. He quickly remuted his line and left Kenny and Stan to scold Cartman for taking any opportunity he could to joke about killing their redheaded friend, and went to check on the commotion. 

He walked down the hallway and saw his brother also poking his head out of his bedroom. They nodded to one another in a sibling affirmation of _'I'll go check on her'_ and _'okay,'_ as his brother went back to his live stream and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Kyle to traipse through the halls and investigate. 

Kyle entered the living room and saw his mother talking animatedly on the phone with someone. He was pretty sure he heard the words “sick” and “serious” in between the rapid-fire Yiddish words his mother was spouting into the phone. He waited until there was a break in the conversation before speaking up.

“Is something the matter Ma?”

Sheila Broflovski looked to her son, startled that she had made such a commotion that it had interrupted her son’s regular video call with his friends. She held a hand to the receiver and sighed dramatically. “Oh Kyle, it’s just terrible. Your cousin Kyle’s friend Audra said that she’s gotten an infected tooth and had to have emergency dental surgery and can’t make it to the Matzo Ball. Oh, how awful! She’ll be missing out on such a formative event! It’s such a shame, I always liked Audra.”

Kyle cocked his eyebrow. “And? Audra can’t make it to the Matzo Ball, so what?”

"So," his mother started to explain. "Now there’s no one to go with you, your cousin Kyle, Alec, and Levy to the Matzo Ball on such short notice. The Silver Table package pays for five tickets but now we have one spare. Oh and everyone’s already made plans for Christmas Eve, you know how those Christians and Catholics are about Christmas. And now this hundred and twenty dollar ticket will go to _waste_ unless we can find someone who will be free on Christmas Eve. I've already called the venue and they said we can't refund Audra's ticket as the Silver Table is a package deal!”

Kyle eyed the innocuous fan of five silver foiled tickets his mother was gesturing with as she stressed out on the phone. Only five minutes ago he loathed the tickets with every fibre in his being as they symbolised the control his mother had over his life. Now, he could see a chance that his Christmas Eve might not be completely ruined after all. “One second Ma, I… I may have a solution.” Kyle said, not trusting his voice to not betray the budding feelings of hope inside him. 

He ran back into his room without another word, leaving his mother curious and slightly confused as to what changed her son's mood that suddenly. 

"What an odd child," she said to herself, turning back to the phone. "Honestly, one moment he's telling me he doesn't want to go, and now he thinks he can help with the spare ticket, _geh vays._ "

Kyle rushed back into his room and unmuted himself as soon as his fingers found his mic.

“Dudes! Schwartz’s friend Audra cancelled on going to the Matzo Ball at the last minute and now there’s a spare ticket for anyone who wants a free ride to the biggest party on Christmas Eve with your guys’ name on it! _Please_ , someone, come with me."

Kyle raised his eyes skyward and looked out his old, dusty window. "Oh thank you God, I knew you cared about me. I knew you wouldn’t abandon me to be eaten alive by the horny Jewish singles in my area." he frowned as he looked back at his amused friends who were holding back their laughter at Kyle's antics.

"God, I sound like a fucked up kosher sex ad now. But please come with me!” Kyle didn’t care he was begging. He needed a friendly face for Christmas Eve. It was his saving grace. He can’t stand the thought of going to a Jewish banging pen with only his cousin and his friends for company. Even the mere thought of it made his stomach turn as he envisioned his boring ass cousin and co asking him if he'd made friends yet with any of the many daughters of bankers and whether Kyle thought buying the silver tickets were worth the price of admission or if they should've bought generic instead, and then gone on a tangent about his cousin's asthma. It would be kinder to feed Kyle to the rats that hung around the old Sodosopa.

“Go? One of us? Wait, I thought this was a Jewish shindig?” Kenny asked hesitantly.

Kyle shrugged. “Non-Jewish people are welcome as well, it's not like Jewish social events try to be _exclusionary._ It just tends to be packed with Jews cause everyone else is staying home celebrating Christmas Eve. There'll be food, drinks and it's entirely unsupervised so there'll probably be some amateur semi-public banging to laugh at. Come on dudes, you’ve gotta come!”

Kyle turned to look at his super best friend on the screen, but Stan shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry dude, but my folks are doing this big Christmas dinner thing for Christmas Eve with my dad. It’s the first Christmas he’s going to have sober in ten years so it’s kind of a big deal for us. You know I’d give you my left kidney if you needed it Kyle, but I can’t miss this, I’m sorry.”

Kyle nodded understandably. Stan had been trying hard to keep his family together. He even went through addiction therapy with his dad and grandfather. He wanted his father to succeed, even though Randy had been a pretty shitty father for about as long as Kyle's known the guy.

Cartman opened his mouth to speak but Kyle interrupted him before he could. “Not a chance, Fatass. I will personally ram a _sufganiyot_ so far up your asshole you’ll be squirting jelly out from your eyeballs before I even consider loosing a racist piece of shit _shonde_ like you to a Jewish gathering. Sit your ass back down and don’t even _think_ of tailing us there. I will literally pay you _money_ to not go.” Kyle emphasized.

Cartman snapped his mouth shut and his eyes narrowed on the screen, intrigued by the promise of money. He leaned closer to the computer, the soft glow of the monitor highlighting his pudgy face sinisterly. “How much money are we talking here, _Kahl_?” 

“Fifty bucks," Kyle answered quickly. "Just stay at home, and be a useless shitstain like you always are to your mother on Christmas Eve and you can have fifty dollars. Don’t follow me, don’t look at me, hell don’t even _think_ about me, and you get paid when I get back from Denver.”

“You’re seriously?”

“As your goddamn likelihood of getting a heart attack Cartman,” Kyle assured.

Cartman leaned back in his chair, appeased by the allure of bribery. “You’ve got yourself a goddamn deal, Jew.”

Kyle then turned pleadingly to Kenny. “Kenny, please tell me at least _you’re_ free to come. Seriously you don't have to pay us back for the ticket, it's been taken care of. We can pick you up and drive you there and back if you're worried about transport.”

Kenny visibly seemed uncomfortable on screen, debating with himself. His camera had a bit more lag to it as he often joined video calls on his cellphone that the other guys had pitched in to get him on his birthday rather than joining from a computer, but the quality was still decipherable enough for Kyle to see him look uneasily off to the side undoubtedly towards where his sister Karen was. The two McCormick siblings were almost inseparable, so it was no wonder the younger McCormick was no doubt listening in to the boys' pow wow. 

“Yeah _Kinny,_ this Matzo-whatever party sounds right up your alley. A party of no less than a thousand horny Jews looking to get their freak on for the night, you should be blowing balloons.” Cartman said crassly.

“Okay, despite what I said about the dating scene, some people genuinely go to the Ball and meet a nice date, or network or whatever, don’t make this weird Cartman.” Kyle countered. He turned back to Kenny. “But honestly, yeah Kenny, if you were looking to bang someone tomorrow night, defile the eve of the Lord's birth or whatever, I bet you nine chances outta ten you’ll find someone at the party who’ll have you for the night. Are you free?” 

Kenny fidgeted restlessly awkward on-screen, all but twiddling his thumbs. “Well, I mean you know my family. We don’t exactly have much to make big plans for Christmas …” he mumbled. Kenny scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. He was avoiding looking at Kyle’s screen while he considered his options.

“Exactly,” Cartman piped up smugly. “You aren’t doing anything exciting for Christmas Eve anyway. It’s a fully paid for trip to literally go to a big schlong-fest _Kinny_. Just go Poor Boy, you won’t get another chance to go to another venue nearly as swanky as a place booked by the Secret Jewish Millionaire Collective looking to set their kids up with the right, rich Jewish families.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “For the last time Cartman, there isn’t some sort of Secret Jewish Millionaire Collective Conspiracy against society!” He snapped.

“Of course that’s what you Jews would say.” retorted Cartman with confidence.

Before Kyle could go debunking Cartman’s ridiculous conspiracy theory regarding the elite and influential Jewish families of America, there was a sudden scuffle on Kenny’s line.

“Just go, Kenny! I know you want to-” Karen offered.

“I can’t. I gotta look after my little sis and make sure she doesn’t peek at her Christmas present before Christmas Day, remember?” Kenny replied, his hand reaching off-screen. Kyle could just picture Kenny playfully mussing Karen's hair in his mind's eye, while Karen ducked squealing at the attention.

However, the scuffling on Kenny’s line intensified as the two siblings started fighting over the phone and Kenny fell from view as the phone was grabbed and fumbled with. Finally, a small diminutive hand grasped Kenny’s phone and Karen McCormick’s adorable face graced the screens of the other three boys, as a disgruntled Kenny could be heard yelling “hey!” from the background. 

“Kenny can go. We already left our Christmas presents under each other’s beds so there’s no need for him to spy on me to make sure I don’t open it until Christmas day. Have a little faith in me Ken, of course I'll wait for you to get back from the ball before we open presents.” Karen teased. “It would be nice to see him go to a nice big fancy party with one of his friends. Does he have to wear something nice?”

"Umm, sorta." Kyle started. 

Kenny could be heard protesting in the background that he ‘should be spending Christmas Eve with her, especially since Kevin moved out to live on his own elsewhere.’

“Oh shut up Kenny, one Christmas Eve without you isn’t going to kill me," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, this sounds like it'll be tons of fun. A big party, food and drink in the big city, a night to yourself to spend with one of your closest friends. I’d hate for you to miss out on opportunities like this just because of me.” 

She turned back to addressing Kyle. 

“Sorry about that Kyle, you were saying something about the dress code? I imagine it's a little more fancy than going to a high school prom.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his head in thought. “Uh, I mean, while it’s not unheard of to wear a suit and tie, you don’t have to show up in one. Just dress like you’re the son of a dentist going for a nice night out, but not as far as the son of a private insurance company CEO and you’ll be fine.” Kyle answered finally, shrugging. "Does that make sense?" 

“Gotcha,” Karen winked at the camera conspiratorially. “'Kay, I’ll hand you back to Ken now.”

The camera shuffled a bit as Kenny scolded his sister for poking her nose into his business before their regular view of their lopsided grinning friend returned. “Alright. Sorry about that, but it looks like I’m being strong-handed into going after all. Karen says she’s hidden my PSP and I won’t be getting it back until I’ve gone to the ball and left my glass slipper on the carpeted stairs of some Kosher Prince.” Kenny laughed at his own cheesy analogy.

"Okay, it's nothing as fancy as that," Kyle protested, speaking quickly to defuse the fantasy before anyone started getting the wrong idea. "It's only a Ball in name. Don't go thinking this is a bigger deal than it really is Ken, no glass slippers."

Kenny pouted. "Boo, then what even is the point?" 

Cartman chose at that moment to butt in with his own input. “You'd better make sure Poor Boy doesn’t nick something from anyone important at the party Kyle, you wouldn’t want to start a family feud between yourself and the bank brokers of Denver.” He warned. 

"Shut up Cartman." Kyle dismissed automatically. "So, you're definitely coming then Ken?" 

Kenny nodded. "Sure am, Ky!". 

In a show of gratitude, Kyle did a mock bow towards Kenny’s screen on his monitor. “Oh my god thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me. I owe you one Kenny. It'll be so nice to have someone else there who'll be on my side."

Kenny looked amused. “Naw, you’re the one treating me to a big swanky party with booze and a thousand bachelors and bachelorettes. Dude, Ky, I’m the one who should be thanking you.” He laughed.

Stan cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention. "So, it's great you found someone to go with you to the ball and all, but when are you leaving for Denver tomorrow? When will you be back?" he asked. "Dude, we've _got_ to catch up at Stark's sometime. When was the last time we hung out together properly since college stole you away? Before last summer?"

"Too long," Kyle agreed. "Uhh, one moment. I'll check with Ma about the scheduling." 

He then ran out to catch his mum before she somehow finagled someone of _her_ choosing into taking Audra’s place at their table instead. Sheila was still at the phone, listening intently to the other side of the line and nodding every few minutes, occasionally making noises of affirmation. She noticed him come in and turned to him. 

"Oh, there you are Kyle. Was there something you wanted?" his mother asked.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, actually. Ma, since Audra can’t come, I can bring one of my friends from South Park with me to the Matzo Ball instead right?” 

“Someone else? Who do you have in mind? Is it Stanley?” Sheila asked curiously, talking away from the receiver, where no doubt Audra’s mother was still bemoaning to Sheila about how unfortunate it was her own _bubale_ would be sitting this night out. “I thought Sharon said they had plans for this Christmas Eve.”

Kyle shook his head. _'Oh, so she had time to ask the Marsh's about their plans for Christmas, but neglected to ask for her own son's plans?'_ Kyle thought bitterly. Of course. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, even if that permission is shipping your own twenty-year-old son off to the city for a dating pen without his prior notice. “No it’s not Stan, it’s Kenny.”

“Oh, the McCormick boy.” his mother's face visibly fell. Kyle thought this was a bit unfair. It wasn't like Kenny was a _bad_ friend compared to Stan or something. 

"I don't know _bubale,_ are you sure this is something he'd want to go to?"

"He wouldn't tell me he could come if he wasn't interested Ma," Kyle said, irritated at his mother's implications, dodging what she _really_ wanted to say. ' _Are you sure this is the right sort of event for you to be seen with Kenny at?'_

He knew she was all too aware of Kenny’s socio-economic status. It wasn't fair that Kenny was the breadwinner for his house. He and his siblings didn't deserve to live in squalor just because his dad was an unemployed drunk who didn't want to get his shit together. It wasn't fair that because of this, Kyle's mum would be reluctant for Kyle to look like he associated himself with ‘the lower class’ at the Jewish equivalent to the Met Gala.

"It just doesn't seem fair to me, that cousin Kyle gets to bring his friends, but none of mine are invited. So I chose Kenny. I already asked if he was free tomorrow." Kyle said reasonably.

“Oh, but the Matzo Ball is so soon, are you sure he's prepared? This isn't just your local get together sweetie, there'll be some very upper-middle-class folks there, and someone's of Kenny's, _demeanor_ , might find it hard to socialise with these types." his mum dodged yet again, although this time being slightly more direct about her judginess. _As if Kyle found it easier to talk to these judgy assholes in college, and was somehow less of a country bumpkin than Kenny._

Kyle was a South Park kid, and unfortunately for him, everyone on the East coast seemed to have heard of South Park, and there were a lot of preconceptions to overcome with being a South Park kid. Especially after Stan's dad effectively declared war on New Jersey that one time. They had a reputation for being redneck, self-serving, ignorant hicks that most people wouldn't want to associate with if given the choice. Not that Kyle would argue the typical people of South Park _weren't_ all those things, that was one of the blessings of finally getting out of this small mountain town for college for Kyle, but Kenny wasn't like that. He was one of the most earnest, emotionally intelligent, hardworking, people Kyle knew, and it wasn't fair to lump him in with this town of fuckheads.

"What about that girl Wendy? Or that lovely boy Token? He'd probably be more familiar to this type of scene. Oh, what about David? Are there any friends from college you could ask to go?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Mum, I'm not going to a ball with Stan's girlfriend, that'd be weird. Token's gone away with his family to their holiday house and David's family is mega ultra-Catholic, so he's definitely busy for Christmas Eve. Everyone else has made plans for their Christmas break, and you can't _seriously_ expect me to ask my friends from Princeton to fly over to Denver overnight without asking them in advance. It’s the holidays Ma, _every_ flight will be booked solid. _Please Ma?_ Kenny probably won't embarrass me or whatever, we've known him for years. Can’t I at least spend this night with one of _my_ friends as well?”

He knew what his mother was getting at with that selection of Kyle's friends his mother would rather he be seen with, she wasn't exactly being subtle. Wendy was more progressive, she came from a well enough off middle-class family like himself and went to university in New York. Token was obviously rich and went to a West Coast college, probably more familiar with not offending rich important people at parties. David, while coming from a more humble restaurant home than most of Kyle's other friends, was charming and still at least mid to lower middle class, just not bottom of the rung, lower class, just a step above homelessness like Kenny's family. Kyle's university friends were obviously running in similar thought circles, but they were all rather distant and tentative in their new friendship, compared to the tight-knit, almost blood pact togetherness of the South Park youth Kyle had grown up with. They just didn't compare.

Sheila hemmed and hawed as Kyle nervously bit the inside of his cheek for her approval. If she was going to say no and just leave the ticket unused, Kyle was going to steal the ticket and smuggle Kenny to Denver himself if he had to, and damn the consequences. The night would be _unbearable_ if all he had for foreseeable company was only his out-of-the-book, stereotypical _cousin_. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission right? Although Kyle kind of was asking for permission after all, he supposed, but it really was only a courtesy. 

Finally coming to a conclusion, Sheila nodded. “Alright Kyle, I don’t see why not."

"Yes!" Kyle shouted, pumping his first into the air. It was one of his rare victories over her. She held up a hand, curbing his celebration. 

"But, only if you also stay with your cousin, I don’t want to hear you abandoned him to go chinwag with your friend Kenny. You've got to promise that you won't leave your cousin alone and that you won't go off on your own with Kenny to avoid talking with people there, is that understood Kyle?”

“Yes Mum,” Kyle rolled his eyes. In other words, the only times he was allowed to leave his cousin was if he _'met someone.' Gotcha Ma._ He thought with a mental sigh.

“Alright then, here's Audra's ticket _bubbie._ Make sure you give it to your friend Kenny and we’ll pick him up at seven. The Matzo Ball finishes late, so you'll be staying the night at the Oak Court Hotel. Then, we'll pick you boys back up at ten in the morning."

“Thanks, Ma, you’re the best!” Kyle said gratefully.

He let his mother get back to her conversation on the phone and grabbed the silver tickets before sprinting back to his computer. There, he saw his friends debating amongst themselves the various alternative applications of Christmas fruitcake, before quieting down at the approach of their friend. Kyle held up the silver tickets triumphantly for Kenny to see on the screen. 

“Okay I've got your ticket right here Ken, we’re gonna pick you up at seven. It says here that the ball ends at three in the morning, so we'll be spending the night at the Oak Court hotel. Hope you don't mind rooming with one of my cousin's friends Kenny, my mum's probably expecting me to share with Schwartz." 

“Alright, sounds good Ky, I'll pack an overnight bag.” Kenny nodded. Kyle quickly tucked the tickets into his wallet as Cartman, ever the insufferable one to rip on the unfortunate redhead, started to flap his jowls again. 

“Dude, I always knew Kyle had a vagina. Kenny’s literally taking Kyle to his dumb faggy Jew ball, can you believe it, Stan?”

Stan stood up, looking at Cartman furiously on his best friend's behalf, causing the elderly Sparky to bark in protest as he was dropped to the floor. “Knock it off Cartman! If I wasn’t busy I’d have gone with him too, I’d buy my own ticket and everything if I had to. You’re just jealous you can’t go because Kyle would rather shit bricks than go with the likes of you.”

“Ey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Cartman spluttered, red in the face. 

“Alright guys, shut up.” interrupted Kyle, physically slapping the monitor, as if that could knock off the squabbling between his frenemy and best friend. “Before I lose my last shred of sanity, I should probably call in an early night to go and get ready for tomorrow before my mum goes off on me and makes me wear something completely ridiculous. Later dudes.”

Stan's face fell. "Aw, already? But it's barely past ten."

"Yeah, well, you know how my Ma got when I had to dress up for my _bar mitzvah_ dude. Can't let that clusterfuck happen again." Kyle said, rolling his eyes. 

Stan winced sympathetically. "You have a good point." He sat back and waved forlornly. "Alright Kyle, text me heaps when you get there. And you better hang out with us when you get back," he said warningly. "You spent the entirety of the last break being a loser and studying in your dorm, so you've been slacking in Super Best Friend duties and I expect you to make up for it when you get back from Denver." 

Kyle laughed, nodding. "Yeah, slacking in my Super Best Friend duties, sorry I wasn't there to kick your butt to get you to listen to Wendy and fucking study for your last paper on, what was it again? _Dolphin Recreational Behaviours?_ " 

" _Same-Sex Dolphin Procreational Behaviours,_ "Kenny corrected cheekily. "Stan sat around for weeks studying gay dolphins dicking each other for pleasure. Really, I told him if Wendy wasn't cutting it out for him anymore and he needed something to rub one off on, I had plenty of material, but then he had to go and write a paper about it. He's almost as bad as you Ky."

"Look, same-sex attraction is very _topical_ to the university right now, okay? And besides, I've been around gay animals all my life so I thought it was a good topic to pursue. Just look at Sparky here." Stan brought up his dog to the camera again, but the elderly mutt just began enthusiastically covering Stan's face with saliva.

"So, as you can see here, I had an excellent study partner when my Super Best Friend went Absent Without Leave on me," Stan finished. 

Kyle snorted. "Fine. Dinner at the City Wok, first thing when me and Ken get back."

"We can catch up and then bitch about all the snotty uptight Jews that tried to get into Ky's pants," said Kenny. 

" _We_ ," Kyle said warningly, "will _not_ be talking about that. _I_ get enough of that from my mother."

"Correction," Kenny grinned smugly. " _I_ will be bitching about all the snotty uptight Jews that tried to get into Ky's pants."

"Shut up, and say goodbye already pussies. I'm pretty sure some African children already starved to death in the time it takes for you bozos to end this damn video call." Cartman drawled, already sick and tired of their blithering _niceties_. The three friends who actually tolerated each other looked regrettably at one another, deigning to stop drawing out their farewells any longer. Kyle and Kenny had a ball to plan for after all.

“See ya, Kyle, sorry I can’t go with,” Stan said mournfully. 

“It’s alright Stan, have fun with your folks. Have a good Christmas Eve.”

"Same to you too Dude," said Stan. Sparky helpfully barked as Stan picked him up and nuzzled the troublesome dog to his face. 

Cartman snorted. “Kenny, if Kyle gets drunk off his ass and joins a repressed Jewish orgy, send me pics. I bet it’ll be hilarious.”

“You can suck a fat one Cartman!” Kyle spluttered. He then manually kicked Cartman from the call. _'Admin privileges, bitch.'_ Kyle thought, pleased.

He probably should have done that sooner admittedly. Stan and Kenny laughed as Cartman launched a flurry of outraged messages that Kyle set up a bot to instantly delete whenever he activated it. He grinned in satisfaction knowing that Cartman was receiving feedback from the bot saying he was getting a glitch due to being a "bigoted piece of shit" and would be angrily texting a poor unsuspecting Butters to come by and help him fix it. 

“Nice one Ky. About time you shut him up. Only took you like sixteen minutes this time. That might be a new record for you." Kenny laughed. 

"So, that fancy Ivy League college of yours _is_ good for something after all, it's done wonders for your patience." Stan snorted. 

Kyle tutted. "It's amazing how long you learn to put up with assholes when you grow up around the most pustulant one from kindergarten. Anyway, I really ought to be getting on with getting ready for tomorrow. So, see you at City Wok day after Christmas Stan?" 

"Wouldn't miss it even if the Pentagon itself came to get me," he promised.

Kyle smiled fondly. "Catch you later tomorrow night Ken?"

"Absolutely. See you at seven babe,” Kenny blew a kiss at the screen. “I’m gonna go to the Matzo Ball!” he called offscreen, as an answering "you're gonna go to the Matzo Ball!" chant from Karen could be heard from the background.

Kyle blinked. That was odd. Ken wasn't a stranger to addressing random friends by romantic pet names, but he usually never applied them to Stan, Kyle, or Cartman. Although the thought of _anyone_ calling Cartman _'babe'_ made Kyle reactively retch. Babe? Was Kenny really leaning into this weird fantasy Cartman had offhandedly left them with about Kenny taking Kyle to the ball?

“Um, see you tomorrow, Ken. Thanks again.” Kyle replied awkwardly. The screen went dark as the three ended the video call, and Kyle was once again staring at his own reflection.

Turning off his computer, he went to his phone to see a string of apologetic bowing emotes from Stan, once again bemoaning his inability to accompany his best friend to Denver. Kyle texted back a simple 'Thanks, :),' and then put on some music to distract him from the now-slightly-less-gloomy situation. 

Kyle yawned exhaustively, the jet lag finally catching up to him, and glanced back to his unpacked suitcase in the corner of his room. He wasn’t even back for a full four hours but now, thanks to his mother’s meddling, Kyle had to pack his bags for an overnight stay at Denver and somehow not embarrass himself at a big _schmooze_ -fest. Obviously, the first step to not embarrassing himself as a naturalised South Park hick, was not looking the part of a South Park hick.

He had given Kenny advice on dress code, but he didn’t even know himself where his nicer clothes were currently without the chance to sleep since he got home, let alone unpack. And anything he did bring with him to college would be hopelessly wrinkled in the suitcase. Kyle scrunched up his face and kicked the suitcase aside. Anything he was planning to wear probably wasn't going to be in there. He opened up his closet to look for something formal, yet not flashy. He noticed immediately that even as he had taken most of his regular wear to college with him, his closet was unusually sparse. His mother chose at that moment to stick her head into his room, unannounced. 

“Oh Kyle, if you’re wondering where your nice shirts are, I’ve got them all pressed and laundered for you to pick out from tomorrow, they're hanging in your father's closet for now. And don’t even think about wearing your old jeans mister. I’ve bought you some lovely new pants to go with them.”

“Okay thanks, Ma,” Kyle said, trying not to be irritated at just how thoroughly his mother has apparently planned his trip to Denver in advance before even consulting him.

“Oh, and just what are we going to do about your hair.” Sheila tutted. Strolling into his room, she tried to bring some semblance of order to the nest of ringlets that called itself hair on Kyle’s head. 

“Ma, paws off!” Kyle tried to bat her hands away, but she just came back with a comb and started stubbornly tugging on it in experimental directions in a vain attempt to smooth it out. 

Kyle let out a lip trill as he sat down at his desk with a defeated slouch, lest his mother inadvertently yank out his hair or snap the ensnared comb. Maybe he could blame her unyielding stubbornness to groom him on empty nest syndrome. And now that he was back in her house, she was determined to look after him as much as possible. Kyle had resigned to accept his fate as a Matzo attendee for tomorrow evening. At least now he had a friend who would be there, so it wouldn’t be a total slog.

He offered his mother a hand by reaching for a little jar of smoothing gel his roommate on campus had given him on his birthday. It made the springy curls somewhat more malleable so that he could coax them to order. His mother flipped a switch so that she would have more light to work with. After several minutes of vigorous grooming, Sheila Broflovski spoke up again.

“You know, the nice lady at the salon who works on my hair has very good rates on men’s haircuts.”

Kyle blanched and spun around in his chair, brushing his hands roughly through his hair to undo whatever misguided attempt his mother had made to tame it. “Ma, I do not need to get a freaking haircut.” He protested.

His mother scoffed. “Oh Kyle, you’re going to be meeting a lot of very important people in your age group at this Matzo Ball. You’ve got to look your best. You know I love your hair, but this is getting out of hand. Surely just trimming it a little, tidying it up a bit will be fine. Just give it a chance won’t you?”

Kyle sighed. He already could tell from her tone that he had lost this argument. He lost this argument before it even began on the sole fact that Sheila was his mother and she was getting her way. And she was always going to get her way unless he fought her tooth and nail and denounced her as his mother until ultimately forgiving her and coming to some sort of ‘compromise.’

“Fine, Ma.”

“Thank you," she said, pleased. "Oh Kyle, my _bubale’s_ grown into a very fine and handsome _boychik_ , and any aspiring Jewish girl with any sense in her would be lucky to have you." his mother proclaimed. She abandoned the comb, setting it down for taking the opportunity to take both hands and pat at Kyle's cheeks affectionately like an old Jewish auntie. 

Kyle protested and pushed her hands away. "Ma, I'm not fucking twelve, could you please stop that?" 

Sheila pulled away placatingly, but she still was cooing to herself which pissed Kyle off. God, she must've been insufferable to Ike the first months after he left, and was unleashing all this pent up mothering upon him now. He winced to himself in sympathy. When winter break was over, Kyle should probably get Ike a new keyboard or something, as an apology when it sent Sheila reeling back into empty nest syndrome. His mother brushed off Kyle's rejection of her mothering and she went right into busying herself sorting through Kyle’s closet. 

“It wasn’t even my idea to go to this stupid _schmooze_ -fest in the first place. Now I gotta dress up like a total douchebag to go too.” Kyle grumbled under his breath, watching his mother fussing.

She then started pulling out some of his few ties, tutting at them disapprovingly. “Kyle, what is this nonsense, don’t you have anything presentable for a necktie?”

He looked over to what she was criticizing now. “What’s wrong with tiny guinea pigs?” Kyle asked.

It was a gift from Craig at his _bar mitzvah_. It was a faded navy tie with a repeating pattern of tiny embroidered guinea pigs and dashed pinstripes. From far away, the guinea pigs could look like nothing more than dots, simply a part of the pinstripe pattern, but up close it was a fun touch, like they were running on a raceway across the blue fabric. Kyle thought it was quite a fun mix of fun patterns and business colours. 

“No one’s about to take you seriously at the party if you wear something like this Kyle. How about this from your father? It’s a nice, smart brocade.” his mother held up a dark green monochromatic green brocade tie with a simple pixelated diamond pattern repeating down the sides. The thread used in the embroidery was two-toned green and gold, so that the tie while staying green, shimmered gold in the light.

“Yeuck, I’m going to a party, not be the best man at a wedding, jeez!” Kyle complained. "I don't want to stand out too much looking like I stepped off the set of ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians,’ Ma," 

“Oh I know baby, but it really brings out your eyes don’t you agree?”

“No.” Kyle replied stubbornly, shelving the tie. He then grabbed his mother by the shoulders and physically pulled her aside, out of rifling through his things. She looked at him, shocked at the unexpected physical removal.

He massaged his temples slowly. "Look Ma, can’t I _please_ just pick out a tie myself without you getting involved? Just this one, _tiny_ aspect of my outfit for tomorrow? You've already bought me pants, picked out my nice shirts, you've picked out a godforsaken hairstylist for me tomorrow, you've probably got my shoes and socks picked out as well while you've been at it, can I _please_ just get to wear the tie _I_ want to wear, to a stupid party I didn’t want to go to in the first place?" saying it loud, it was rather exasperating exactly how much of his immediate life was being controlled when he came back home. All Kyle was asking for was this one _tiny_ accessory to have free range over. Surely he could shoo her out of his room for this one thing. 

Sheila Broflovski bit her lip in consideration. It was the night he could be meeting the granddaughter of some famous Jewish director or something. But a tie had the potential to be a rather personal detail. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Kyle to dress himself, she just wanted to make sure he made the best first impression he could coming from an already disadvantaged background of a middle-class family from redneck nowhere South Park among all the other no doubt better off and more notable Jewish youths attending. Admission to Princeton was admirable and all, but every Jewish family worth their salt sent their kids to the top Ivy League colleges. Ivy League was the bare minimum in her books. Then again, perhaps she had been a bit inconsiderate to plan her son’s winter break without first consulting him. In the grand scheme of things, really a tie was probably one of the least of her worries. 

"Fine, but if it's older than five years it'll be much too old and ratty to be seen in public."

"Thank you." Kyle let out a sigh of relief, finally allowed to breathe a little in his own skin.

With a five year age limit, it significantly limited his choices down from his already meagre collection of formal neckwear. There was the Paisley patterned black and silver monstrosity that his uncle had gifted to him two birthdays back when he turned eighteen. _"a man's gift"_ he had said. _'Sure,'_ Kyle had thought. _'If it was the fucking eighties.'_ The thing looked so tacky, gaudy and outdated Kyle was surprised the old people smell didn't come in a complimentary cologne bottle. There was a plain black tie with an anchor embroidered at the end that matched the one he and Stan had gotten when they needed to go to a black-tie event Token’s family was holding. And there was… Kyle gulped.

In his senior year of high school, Kyle had reluctantly been the subject model of one of Karen's early attempts at higher class fashion. The only thing he kept from that embarrassing ensemble, more like a souvenir than anything really, was a simple deep red tie made from a repurposed silk jacket that Sharon Marsh wasn't wearing anymore. It didn't have any fancy embroidery on it, but it came with a simple pin Kenny had made by wire wrapping a small bead of amber in the shape of the stag Crown, Kyle's old roleplay emblem for his kingdom of the elves of Zaron. Technically, the material used for the tie itself was older than five years, but since the tie was given to him two years ago, would it technically fit the requirements of Sheila Broflovski's terms? So long as she didn't ask too many questions regarding the origins of the tie, Kyle didn't see why not.

"What about this tie Ma?"

"Oh, when did you get that Kyle?" she hummed disapprovingly anyway. "It's not the best colour to match your skin tone, but it'll have to do. It actually goes quite lovely with your hair. Make sure you wear a neutral coloured shirt with this one. The rich red will only get washed out if you wear it with a too similar colour. And if you wear green people might start mistaking you for a Christmas elf."

Taking a note to take any fashion advice from his mother grudgingly, Kyle replied, "alright, thanks Ma."

He took out the tie and removed the pin and put it in his pocket to iron the damn thing. The last thing he wanted was for the pin to melt into molten slag, ruining the gift and burning the fibres on his chosen tie. He was glad the material was virtually spotless, or his mother would never have allowed Kyle to wear something that didn’t look absolutely pristine to the Matzo Ball. _'Thank you, Mrs Marsh,'_ Kyle thought to himself. 

Kyle could only hope that Kenny was having better luck than he was at making preparations for tomorrow. At least he didn’t have a pedantic Jewish mother on his back.  
  


* * *

Kenny did not have a pedantic Jewish mother on his back. Instead, he had a pedantic little sister who was an aspiring fashion major on his back, which was only a marginal improvement to Kyle’s predicament. 

“Kenny, Kyle ended the call to get ready ten minutes ago. Don’t you think you should be putting in the same time towards what you’re going to wear tomorrow? He’s already got a head start, I bet you he’s already got his options picked out and you haven’t even started!” she huffed, her cheeks flaring red as she filled her cheeks with air and held her breath in a disapproving frown. 

“I don’t know what you want from me Karen, I only literally got invited to this party like, not even twelve minutes ago.” Kenny waved his little sister off, causing her to breath out the pent up air in a sigh of frustration that he wasn't taking this seriously. Currently, Karen was taking out the iron and trying to put together a look in her mind's eye of Kenny's closet that didn’t scream “straight outta the slums”. 

“Well you heard Kyle, it’s a big party where over a thousand people go. No one just shows up to one of those in ‘whatever’ Kenny.”

“Then what would you suggest?” Kenny asked. “Those rich kids look down on us already anyway, what difference would it make if I showed up in my Sunday best or not if they’re just going to smell the lower class on me?”

“The difference,” Karen said exasperated, “is that it’s not _just_ what the rich privileged Jewish people will think. You and I both know, it’s also what Kyle will think that you really care about.”

Kenny froze in his tracks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said evasively. But he began picking through his sock drawer anyway in an attempt to find something that wasn't quite so chewed on by the rats.

Karen rolled her eyes. “Look Kenneth, worst case scenario you don’t want to embarrass your friend and ruin his chances of making nice with a bunch of big shot, rich Jewish kids like his mum wants him to. Best case scenario he notices you look nice and you make some magic happen. See where I’m going here?” she rolled her hands in front of her in an explanatory fashion, like she was trying to physically air her thoughts into Kenny's brain while the iron warmed. 

Kenny snatched a random, more presentable shirt from his closet, and grabbed the iron from her workspace to get to pressing the garment himself. He was used to doing all the housework around here, and it would make a nice distraction to avoid looking his sister in the eyes. “I see where you’re going and while you’re wrong, I see your point. I guess I can’t show up like a total dumpster rat to Ky.”

Karen snorted derisively. “Yeah, I’m wrong. Sure.” 

Kenny rolled his eyes as he twisted the pressed garment around to get around the collar and sleeves. “Really Karen, he’s not interested. He’s freaking out about his mother making him go to a Jewish single's event because he doesn't wanna be there with no one but a bunch of uptight assholes, not because he's like, gay or something. In fact, I’m almost positive he’s gotta be ace or at the very least demi. Dude’s never shown even the slightest bit of interest in anyone for as long as I’ve known the guy."

Kenny pressed a hand in front of his chest, dimpling the worn, fleecy material of his hoodie. "Trust me, I was there when we tried to get him laid at the post-prom party. The guy took one look at Bebe’s tit and said _‘that’s it?’_ and said he wanted to go back to reading _Vonnegut_.” Kenny explained incredulously, like wanting to read Vonnegut over touching Bebe's rack was a crime.

Karen went to speak up with the obvious suggestion that Kyle was unimpressed because of his raging homosexuality, but Kenny was already one step ahead of her and shook his head.

“And no, he’s probably not gay either, cause I must’ve sent him like fifty dick pics, not all of them mine. Some are from some very nice looking porn stars and the guy just gives me back a rolling eyes emoji in the middle of fucking class. I swear, sex doesn’t phase this guy.” Kenny went back to furiously attacking the sleeves of the now unrumpled light lavender shirt with the iron.

“Well.” Karen started, now that Kenny had finished his little swim in DeNile, quote of the day _'I'm totally not crushing on my best friend Kyle,'_ she explained. “It sounds to me like everything you’ve done has been a bit of a joke. Maybe the reason he’s so unphased by everything is because he’s well, friends with you. Everyone _knows_ you flirt with everything that moves on the usual. Maybe if he knew someone was flirting with him _seriously_ , he’d be more responsive. Dick pics are weak Kenneth.”

"Oi, my dick is not weak."

"Dick pics are classy, said no one ever." Karen rolled her eyes.

“And the Bebe situation?”

Karen just shrugged. “Maybe she’s just not his type.”

Kenny paused in his vigorous ironing and looked appalled. “What? Soft, curvaceous, legs for days and beautiful blonde hair? How is Bebe not _anyone’s_ type?”

Karen grinned coyly. “Think about who you’re crushing on Kenny." she leaned on a ratty old dresser, hearing the faint sounds of most probably rats scurrying from behind it.

"It’s _Kyle_ . Of course, Kyle would care more about the _person_ than their _looks_ you dumb-dumb. You really think 'blonde basic bitch' is Kyle’s type?" she blew the hair from her face as she started inspecting her chipped nails.

"Sure Bebe can be smart when she wants to, but you know as well as I do that she likes using her smarts for being, for a lack of a better word, 'basic as fuck.'"

Kenny turned away from her, refusing to listen to the obvious. So Karen chased him down to grab him by the shoulders and look him in the eye. "She orchestrated a whole manipulative scheme to make dating Clyde not social suicide for the sake of getting free cute shoes for Chrissake Kenny! Kyle doesn’t like that, Kyle would love someone who is kind and caring and selfless. Someone who likes to go above and beyond to help those around him.”

Kenny slouched his shoulders in on himself and looked at her sadly. “Stop it, you’re just biased.”

“Am not.” she poked her tongue out playfully at her brother. “And I mean every word too.” Kenny lifted a hand to hers, which were sitting draped over his shoulders appreciatively. 

She pulled the now thoroughly ironed shirt out from Kenny’s other hand and turned to her little box of tricks to start repairing the iffy-looking seams and tacking areas for tailoring. The front had a small hole on the left lapel. It was so small it was nearly unnoticeable, but Karen wasn't about to take any chances for Kenny first totally-a-date with the redhead, even if Kenny wouldn't even admit he had a thing for his friend. She would have to do something about that. She grabbed a needle and thread and set to work.

“Besides, you’ll never know if you don’t ask Ken,” Karen said matter of factly.

She flipped her hair and put on a hypothetically passable Kenny impression. “ _'Hey Kyle, are you ace or demi? And also, would you consider being in a relationship with me? I maybe kinda like you a lot.'_ Then he tells you if he’s straight or not, and then _you_ decide whether or not you want to be in a real relationship. He’s not gonna end your friendship over something as stupid as a bit of a crush Kenny, have a little faith in Kyle he’s not that basic.”

Kenny, now without a shirt to iron and occupy his hands went about fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie restlessly. “But what if he _is_ asexual Karen? What if he’s disgusted and repulsed that I want to ride his ass into the sunset like a show pony?”

She scrunched her face at Kenny's crass analogy. Being open about sexuality in this household did come with its downsides, namely an overly eager kiss and share brother.

She gave him a look. “Kenny, he won’t be disgusted by you. He’s your friend. Just because someone doesn’t find someone sexually attractive doesn’t mean they can’t form meaningful, intimate relationships. Plenty of ace people have happy, meaningful relationships with someone they love, sexual or not. Not being sexually attracted doesn’t automatically mean you never want to have sex if this is such a big deal to you. I thought you knew better than that Kenny.”

“I do know that. I mean technically.” Kenny replied. “But I’m just scared he will be repulsed by _me_. Like, if there was a spectrum, here’s me, way over here,” he stretched out his right hand as far as he could to one side. “And then there’s Kyle.” Kenny pointed out the window.

Karen raised an eyebrow at him, unamused. “I’m such a sexual delinquent. If he finds sex repulsive, then I’m the most repulsive person he knows.” Kenny said despairingly.

Karen let out a derisive snort. “Now I know you’re being melodramatic. We both know Cartman is definitively the most repulsive person Kyle knows. Trust me, even just as friends, he loves ya Ken, he’s not repulsed by your deviant ways. Just let him know there’s an opportunity to love you as something more. It’s not like anyone has to commit to anything, but he’ll never know unless you tell him. He’s not psychic. Nothing’s sadder than waiting for love Kenny. Life waits for no one.” she said, without taking her eyes off his shirt she was repairing.

Kenny pulled on a loose thread at the sleeve of his hoodie at that. Being so sexually open had surprisingly led to Karen being a bit of a sexuality guru in her highschool. It was always kind of enlightening to remember that Karen was old enough to talk to Kenny like an equal now. And the balance of older brother-mentor, little sister-apprentice, was shifting every day. She could consistently now give him advice and see past his bullshit more often than not. 

“There, all patched up.” Karen declared, holding out Kenny’s shirt for him to examine. Somewhere in the process of growing up and setting her sights on fashion design, Karen had gotten better at patch jobs than Kenny. He used to be the one to fix all their clothes, but now Karen had surpassed him with an artistic flair. You couldn’t even see the stitches on the seams she worked on anymore. The shirt was now tailored, and the front now sported an embroidered patch of a red-crowned crane. 

“Wow, it looks great. Thanks, Kare-bear.” Kenny said, awed.

She lightly punched Kenny in the shoulder. “Any time Guardian Angel.”

She then turned to his drawer of pants and haphazard pile of jackets. 

“Okay, now show me what I’m working with here Ken.”

Kenny gently set aside his repaired shirt and pulled out his nicest clean clothes that had some semblance of being able to be put together in a somewhat cohesive ensemble, but Karen kept turning up her nose at some of the stuff.

“Kenny, you can tell this is threadbare, it doesn’t have holes in it yet, but even the most fashionably inept person can tell that this is way past its prime. This jacket used to be blue Kenny, think about that. It’s _grey_ now!”

“Okay, well I don’t have anything else,” Kenny complained.

God, what was he thinking? Dress like the son of a dentist but not a private insurance guy? Kenny didn’t even have anything to look like anything other than the son of a meth-head band player, even if he wanted to.

“Well, we can’t do anything about the wear and tear of this stuff, so the next best thing we can do is make it look deliberate right?” Kenny said, quoting an old Be You, fashion magazine Karen had brought home once. “Time for some tasteful patches and ripped knees.” Kenny went to grab Karen’s scissors when she snatched them away with a scandalised look on her face. 

“What are you crazy?” she cried. “Kenny, smart fashion is different from street fashion. Ripped knees will get you _crucified!”_ Karen confiscated her scissors in fear of Kenny attacking his clothes and sabotaging their attempt to put together something presentable. She went through his remaining jeans and patchy jackets and could scream from frustration. “Seriously Kenny? You put holes in _all_ your jeans? What do you go to work with?”

“Hey don’t knock it, sis. Ripped knees is how everyone around these parts knows I’m a badass.” Kenny said affronted.

Usually, Karen liked his ripped jeans, but he guessed today, it was too _street_ and not enough _chic._ But it also wasn’t exactly his choice to rip _all_ his jeans. Some of the less than intentional rips happened whenever he got run over by a train or something. But Karen didn’t need to know about that. That was one good thing about being poor when cursed with immortality, Kenny mused. He technically didn’t have any nice clothes to ruin whenever the blood got out of hand while dying.

Kenny spun around in a circle, gesturing at everything piled on the floor hopelessly. “Well, that’s what I’ve got Kare-bear. This is literally everything that’s in my fucking closet.”

Kenny stepped into his closet and started throwing out the last dregs of various boxes, lonely left socks, random hats and bits and bobs from old Halloween costumes he should probably have long scrapped since making them. Shreds of fabric came flying from the depths of Kenny’s closet, when a nondescript, large, grey box came soaring out of its depths and hit Karen square on the side of her head.

“Ow! Watch it, Kenny!”

“Oh shit, sorry Karen. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be throwing that.” Kenny apologised.

Karen rubbed the side of her head in irritation and knelt down to see what box had hit her. The lid had come off, spilling its contents to the floor.

“Hang on, what’s this?” Karen said, pulling out a deep purple garment that was folded neatly into the confines of the box.

Kenny poked his head out of the closet to see Karen unfold the garment, letting the end of it fall to the floor with a flourish. “Oh that,” he said, as he realised what it was. His face brightened. “Oh with some changes, that could work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOOGLED LEXICON OF YIDDISHISMS/HEBRISHISMS USED IN THIS CHAPTER. Yes, I used Google, so if I've used these wrong, PLEASE CORRECT ME! :) (politely) I do NOT have a beta reader/Jewishisms/Americachecker.
> 
> Meshuga - crazy
> 
> Bubale/bubbie - a nickname that someone is adorable. Literally 'doll' buba- and -le to show affection.
> 
> Schmooze - socializing, informal small talk. There's an event similar to the Matzo Ball called the Schmooze-a-Palooza apparently, but it sounded less "ball" like this fic.
> 
> kvetching - complain habitually, whinge
> 
> sufganiyot - Jewish jelly-filled doughnut
> 
> shondeh - disgrace, shame, scandal
> 
> geh vays - go figure.
> 
> boychik - sweetheart, in reference to a young boy/man. Yiddish word from English "boy" and Mal"-chik" Russian for 'boy.'


	2. Khaloymes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matzo shenanigans ensue.

Kyle wanted to die from embarrassment. They were an hour into their trip to Denver and drawing closer to the venue. And so as such, his mother had started to give Kyle the Jewish etiquette lecture _right in front of Kenny._

Kenny, who was wearing an embroidered light lavender shirt that didn't have sheer sleeves the last time Kyle had seen it, under a satin panel jacket and a deep purple gathered skirt that flounced whenever he walked. Kenny, who had a thin silver chain necklace with a feather pendant draped across his neck. Who forwent his typical fake gauge spike piercings for tiny, festive snowflakes that twinkled in the light. Who dusted his face with makeup and who was previously only _slightly_ taller than Kyle, now towered over him in his simple strappy black heels that Kyle had no idea where Kenny had gotten from. Kyle and his mother had driven over to Kenny’s house across the tracks, and Kenny had strutted out of the front door like he was a million dollars, swung open the car door and batted his curled eyelashes at Kyle and said “How’s _this_ for the son of a dentist?”

Back when Kenny had first started wearing skirts, Cartman had thrown his lunch tray on the table in front of them in a loud clatter and loudly asked him if he was suddenly trans. Kenny had replied “nothing as complicated as that. I identify as a boy, I just like dressing in feminine things sometimes.” and that was the end of that conversation. However, Kyle had never seen Kenny wear something quite so sophisticated, let alone in front of his mother. This was far outside the realm of random floral print dresses or girly anime tennis skirts. This was like a whole cocktail ensemble. Kenny looked like some sort of fashionable Instagram model or something. Kyle probably had Karen to thank for that. Kyle was so envious of Kenny. Sure, Kyle was wearing a dry cleaned grey silk shirt, fresh new slacks, brand name leather shoes, a modest white polar fleece-lined green denim jacket and gold collar pins, while he was pretty sure Kenny’s earrings were painted plastic and the satin was polyester, but at least Kenny got to dress like _himself._ Whoever ‘himself’ currently was, and be proud of it. Kyle just felt like a set-piece. The piece on the board labelled “eligible bachelor, up and coming typical Jewish lawyer, future father of three” brought to the auction to look for the rest of the matching set.

“Now remember Kyle, networking is important. Make sure if she says she’s a doctor, find out if she really means a paediatrician or if she means a surgeon. No one likes surprises if it turns out she’s not actually _medically_ qualified. And remember, psychologists are really just psychiatrists who failed to get a license to give prescriptions. Generally, Yale and Harvard are good stock, but you can never be too careful. They could be some bimbo whose rich parents bribed the school board. Don’t forget to mention your father is a lawyer, and that he used to work in the firm in Newark. If they ask where he works now, just say he’s taking on private cases in small towns these days because he likes the private scene. If anyone … Unsavoury, tries to talk to you, pretend your friend Kenny is calling you from across the room, Kenny, be a dear and make sure Kyle isn't just talking to you to avoid talking to anyone at all.” Sheila paused for breath, as Kenny gave her a confident, assuring thumbs up and clicked his tongue with a wink, the traitor. 

His mother nodded at Kenny’s response and turned back to continue her lecture to Kyle. “Now _bubale_ , it’s more than likely at an event like this, you’ll run into a girl who went to Jew Scouts. If you meet a former Jew Scout, make sure she knows that you remember the camp creed and recite the camp theme song if you must. Trust me some of those Jew Scouts take their vows very seriously. You just wait till you meet a Camp Kavetcha girl. _Oy vey._ ” Kyle’s mother tutted, shaking her head “They’ll hold you to their creed for fifty years.”

Kyle wanted to bury himself into the faux leather seats of the car. Or throw himself out into the road. Why couldn’t his mother make _normal_ small talk? Everyone knows _those_ types of old fashioned relatives who want their kids to make connections to get ahead in life. But you weren’t exactly supposed to bring these weird, old fashioned, social poaching practices into the _open._

Kenny snorted with amusement in his seat. “Oh my god, Jew Scouts dude.” He kicked the back of Kyle’s chair with a thump, knocking Kyle out of his self imposed turtling. Kyle looked back at him annoyedly. “What?”

Kenny just grinned and poked him on the head. “Remember when you invited me to come along with you to Jew Scouts that one time when we were kids, and one of the camp counsellors turned out to be a devil-worshipping asswipe? Good times.”

Kyle grunted in response. They were not in a dissimilar situation to now actually. Back then, Kenny hadn’t had any plans while Kyle and Ike were being sent to a Jewish get-together. And just like their current situation, through sheer serendipity, Kenny was able to accompany Kyle to make things a little more interesting. The narrative symmetry wasn’t lost on Kyle.

“Yeah, where’d you even go afterwards dude? You didn’t stay for the closing ceremony, I was worried if you even made it home.”

Kenny shrugged nonchalantly. “I died man.”

“Sure.” Kyle huffed. "And I killed Jesus."

"Kyle!" his mother scolded. "Please don't make those types of jokes tonight. I’m serious Kyle. And don’t let Kenny talk you into drinking too much tonight.” Sheila continued on, sensing an opening to continue her lecture. “This is a party for socializing, and the last thing this family needs is a viral video of one of you boys embarrassing yourselves in front of the other Matzo attendees.”

Kyle hit his head against the glass of the car door, praying that the cool glass would help soothe his fraying patience before he did something stupid like snap at his mum. If he pissed her off now, she might forbid him from hanging out with his friends for the rest of winter break.

"Mum, can you stop telling me how to talk to people in front of Kenny?” Kyle asked, attempting to sound casual for the sake of his friend.

“He’s going to start thinking the only way Jewish people know how to socialise is by measuring how far they’ll get ahead on the social ladder before letting you into their social circles.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue among the more traditional Jewish mothers, if Sheila’s ravings were anything to go by. But that was the old, traditional crowd.

Kyle found that the more Western, less traditional Jewish youths preferred to actually judge people based on their character, and how well someone can hold a conversation as opposed to how many zeroes will follow their paycheck once they achieve their Jewish mother approved jobs. Kyle didn’t think he’d want to be like his mother, judging someone’s friendship compatibility based on their financial or academic success. It felt too impersonal and ingenuine. His mother called it “networking,” Kyle called it being a vulture.

“Oh Kenny, don’t worry about what my son says. _You_ can talk to whoever you want to dear. It’s just that Kyle needs to get to know more people of his calibre, and I think there are some lovely friends who he’ll share many similarities with that he just hasn’t met yet because he’s been so opposed to going to any Jewish social events.” Kyle ground his teeth together on Kenny’s behalf.

He knew Kenny was used to these types of throwaway comments about his social status as the resident poverty-stricken kid. _‘Why are you hanging out with Kenny, Kyle? Don’t you think you shouldn’t talk to those sort of kids Kyle?’_ It wasn’t fair that these sort of comments kept following them wherever they went as high schoolers. Kenny shrugged it off because he was used to it. Kyle thought it was insulting Kenny had anything to get used to.

“I kept saying to him you know, back in high school, I kept saying to him. “Oh Kyle you should get out more, what about this Jewish Youth Convention next week?” and he’d say “I’m busy Ma, don’t you want me to get into Yale?” of course he didn’t get into Yale now did he? And so now he has the time, I thought it’d be a lovely idea for him to attend the Matzo Ball.“

Sheila really wasn’t helping the situation here. Kyle was fuming silently in frustration.

She was such a fucking critic over every little thing in his life, when all he’s done has been to try to please her. Kyle didn’t get into Yale because unbeknownst to his mother, he never applied for Yale. Sure it had the best reputation for law school aside from Harvard, but he didn’t want to go to a school in fucking New York. The big city scene was just too busy and hectic compared to his quiet childhood upbringing in a Colorado town. It was like going from zero to a hundred in a split second and Kyle didn’t want that. He knew his mother was pushing for him to get into an Ivy League college though, so he chose Princeton, New Jersey. He had figured _‘how bad could it be?’_ seeing as how it was where his parents had grown up and met. The only way he could have invoked Murphy’s Law any harder would’ve been if he had said: _“what could possibly go wrong?_ ”. Luckily, he didn’t devolve into Kyley-B unless he got really fucking hammered and he managed to keep most of his sanity intact during his studies. Even so, it was infuriating how much his mother seemed to want to invalidate the very real accomplishments in his life using passive-aggressive fake compliments in a bid to ‘push him harder.’

* * *

Kenny looked at Kyle sympathetically. Sheila was talking like, just because Kyle didn’t go to Yale, he was somehow slacking by studying law in Princeton instead. Kenny thought it was swell that Kyle was studying law at all.

He knew Kyle, and he knew that Kyle was anything but a slacker. He knew from their near-daily video calls that Kyle was studying relentlessly, he didn’t even have time to join them on World of Warcraft raids anymore. He was too busy making sure no one in the big city would have any excuse to call him an uneducated country bumpkin. He knew that Kyle had gotten a three thousand dollar scholarship to help with the cost of the degree. He also knew that it wasn’t nearly enough and so Kyle still had a mountain of student debt to look forward to once he finished his six years of study.

As for Kenny? Kenny worked multiple part-time trade jobs. On weekends he bartended for Skeeters, he even had a mixologist’s certificate now. He worked at City Wok on the regular, and was also an on-call mechanic. Kenny did think about attending community college and doing a degree in criminal science someday, he always had something of a boner for justice. But first, he wanted to be more financially secure before following his own dreams. Like making sure Karen would have the opportunity to follow her dreams first.

They pulled onto a slightly fancier street. The lamp posts were wrought iron and the roads un-pockmarked. Big billboards advertised a whole manner of smaller, local Christmas events and the traffic was slowing to a crawl as the streets filled with more cars busying their way to various Christmas festivities, or families heading home for supper. Just ahead, Kenny could make out a brightly lit, post-modern looking hotel building, flanked by two grand oak trees. Huh, Oak Court hotel was living up to its name.

“Alright Kenny, scooch over you’ve gotta make room in the back for Kyle’s cousin Kyle and his friends.”

Kenny obliged the Broflovski matriarch and squished himself as close to the door as he could.

They pulled over at the Oak Court Hotel where Kenny, Kyle, Kyle Schwartz, and his friends were going to stay after a night at the Denver Matzo Ball. Three Jewish youths were outside of the hotel by the road. They were led by the fashionably awkward Schwartz who was wearing a velvet purple suit and a blue swede ascot and large, wiry framed glasses. 

“Oh Aunt Sheila, thank god you got here safely, I do hope you had a good trip.” Schwartz managed to say without gleaking. 

“Thank you, Kyle, You can get in the back of the car with your friends, there’s plenty of room in the back with Kyle’s friend Kenny.” Mrs. Brovlovski said, grabbing Schwartz’s travelling case of medicine and putting it in the back trunk of the car.

“Oh actually Aunt Sheila, I have to sit in the front of the car because of my eczema, as sitting in close quarters with other people can set it off pretty badly.”

“Oh, of course, Kyle,” Sheila said understandingly. “Kyle,” she said, addressing her son this time. “Could you swap to the back seat for your cousin?”

“Yeah sure Ma,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes. In their youth Kyle had bitched to him that Schwartz was a walking list of prescriptions, so Kenny wasn’t too surprised Kyle was expecting to forfeit his prime legroom real estate front seat for some medical condition Schwartz had or another.

Thank god Kyle was on the healthier side of the family and only had to deal with being diabetic. And his liver crapping out on him at eight. And his frequent colds. Actually, maybe Kyle was just a milder ball of prescriptions waiting to happen in comparison to his insufferable cousin, Kenny thought.

A fair, brown-haired girl in a sapphire blue wrap dress and a dark-haired boy wearing a suit jacket over a salmon shirt and jeans greeted them as Kyle shuffled in the backseat up next to Kenny to make room for them.

Kenny’s heart beat faster at the sudden close quarters, but kept his pulse in check through sheer determination on the off chance that Kyle could somehow feel it from his skin being pushed right up against Kenny’s. That is, if he hadn’t already noticed Kenny’s skin burning up from the flush he was sporting. Kenny gulped nervously and shook his head of the Kyle shaped cobwebs in his mind as he paid attention to Schwartz’s friends introducing themselves.

“Hi, I’m Levy Rosenfeld, and this is Alec Stern obviously. We’re from Connecticut like Kyle there, who are you?”

“I’m Kyle Broflovski, Schwartz’s cousin of the same name. And this here is my friend Kenny McCormick.” Kyle answered, taking her hand, as he was the one closest to them, and giving it a firm shake. 

“Ah, Kyle’s cousin Kyle, I’m so glad we get to finally meet you,” said Levy. “We heard a lot about Kyle’s trips to South Park as a child you know. You taught him to play baseball right?”

Kyle laughed nervously. “That’s right. He was even the star player on our team.”

The star player of getting them out of going to playoffs so they could spend the summer playing video games rather, but no one but the South Park elementary school baseball team needed to know that.

Kenny and Kyle shared a secret grin. He gulped. Gosh, did Kyle have to have such mesmerising eyes? The spring green bled into a warm tawny in a hazel that stole Kenny's breath away. He hadn't seen this mug in full real-life HD since the guy moved out for college. It wasn't fair. This should be illegal. At least warn Kenny before blasting him full in the face with attractive redhead. Who made backseats this cramped? They should be able to seat four people with at least eight inches between them comfortably. Did he smell freshly washed hair, or was that Kenny's brain on the fritz? 

“So Kenny, is that short for something? Like Kendra?” Alec asked, snapping Kenny from his reverie by taking Kenny’s hand and kissing the back in a gentlemanly gesture.

“Try Kenneth.” Kenny giggled, taking his hand back. Alec looked shocked at the unexpected low cadence of Kenny’s voice. 

“Oh my, would it be Miss …Kenny? How … unexpected.” Kenny laughed at the Connecticut denizen’s reaction to his voice. “I honestly don’t mind going by either. If I had my way when I was twelve, I’d be referred to as Princess. But I was told by my careers counsellor that Princess of the Orcs wasn’t a viable career path.” Alec looked unsure as to how to continue, but Levy had no such qualms and quickly continued the conversation. 

“Well, I think you’re looking like a very _sheyne meydel_ Princess Kenny. That’s a very nice skirt. Very _shtotty_.”

Kenny giggled uncertainly. “Thanks, I think? My sister helped me make it. She graduates from high school this year, and she wants to study fashion design.”

Kyle elbowed him roughly, getting Kenny’s attention. “She means your skirt looks very fancy.”

“Oh!” Kenny realised. “Well, thank you very much. I’ll be sure to give your compliments to my sister.”

Levy looked between Kyle and Kenny in confusion. “Oh? You don’t speak any Yiddish? Not even a smidgeon of Yinglish? A whisper of Hebrish?” At Kenny shaking his head, Levy asked “are you a _goy_?” 

Kenny’s grin grew tenfold. Even he knew that one. “That’s me. I’m Kyle’s _goy-_ ish friend. I’m actually Catholic. Hope you don’t mind me crashing this Jewish shindig.”

On the contrary, Levy and Alec looked delighted. “No no, not at all. All are welcome to the Matzo Ball!” Alec quickly reassured. “It’s just unusual that someone who would be joining us at a Silver Table would be a _goy_. Usually, when people pay money for premium seats and line-cutting privileges, they tend to be pretty Jewish.” 

“Ah yes well about that,” said Kenny, looking between the two unsure of how familiar he was supposed to act around Schwartz’s friends. “Dunno if you heard, but your friend Audra couldn’t make it tonight. So I came in her place to keep my friend Kyle here company,” he said, gesturing at the mildly less irate looking redhead.

The drive to the venue continued in awkward silence. The only reprieve being the heavy laboured breathing of Schwartz’s exhales through his mucus laden membranes.

* * *

“So, how do you two know my cousin?” Kyle asked conversationally, eager for anything to distract him from keeping track of the oscillations happening in his cousin’s throat causing that laboured waver in his breath.

“Oh we go to the same college, don’t we Alec?” Levy said smoothly. “We go to Penns State University. I’m studying pre-med, Alec is in pre-law, and Kyle is in finance. We share like three lectures!” she said eagerly, as if that were something actually exciting.

“What about you Kyle, what do you study?”

“To be honest, I don’t really like to say-” Kyle started.

“Nonsense! Kyle, don’t be so modest.” his mother interrupted. “Kyle is currently doing his second year of pre-law at Princeton university.”

“Oh wow, you’re studying to become a lawyer at Princeton?” Levy asked, suddenly much more interested in him.

“That must be difficult. I hear the Princeton law program is to die for! Of course, finance is always a good option for getting into the job market you know. Everyone has money, but not everyone knows how to use it, as my mother always says.” she started laughing. “You know, my family comes from a long line of bankers, so I'm kind of breaking off the family branch to become a doctor. Have you heard of Grate Enterprises? It’s my grandfather’s company.”

Kyle could already feel his eyelid twitching. He could see his mother eyeing them with a sly smile from the car mirror, suddenly much more interested in the situation. He could already see her planning future family dinners and asking if Kyle would like to invite his 'close friend' Levy and he wanted to bash his own head in.

Levy wasn’t an abhorrent girl by any means, granted she was no Nichole Daniels or Bebe Stevens, she was just your average, short, Jewish girl who looked like she could be someone’s next-door neighbour. She was probably everything his mother wanted in a daughter in law. He felt her social poaching rifle nudging him the back.

Thankfully, before Kyle had to engage in forced niceties with a clear echo of his mother he didn’t want to get to know better, god if he dated a girl that reminded him of his mother what did that say about him? They arrived at the Matzo Ball. “Oh look we’re here, we should get to our table before they think we missed it and give the table to someone else, and wouldn't that be a shame!” Kyle said quickly. 

They clambered out of the car in front of the crowded entrance. There was a little fountain in front that had frozen over, lit with dim garden lights. Music could be heard thumping from the entrance as the delighted cheers of slightly tipsy Jewish youths interspersed with the beats. 

“Now remember kids, have a lovely time and don’t be shy to talk to people you don’t know alright? This is a wonderful opportunity to network in your own community and make new friends your own age. Don’t be shy about giving out your numbers either you hear? Oh and Kenny, look out for Kyle for me won’t you?”

Kenny gave her an exaggerated salute. “Not to worry about a thing Mrs. B. I’ll be the best damn wingman Kyle never asked for.”

“You’re too kind Kenneth." His mother said sweetly. "Now, I’ve given you all enough money to catch an Uber back to the hotel at the end of the night. Don’t do anything too crazy, and I’ll be back to pick up Kenny and Kyle in the morning tomorrow. You have a nice flight home afterwards Kyle, Levy and Alec.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Broflovski,” they collectively replied. Kyle watched morosely as his mother drove off, leaving him abandoned to the socialite wolves. He felt a hand knock against his own and looked up to see Kenny giving him a sympathetic, supporting smile. Well, almost abandoned. 

“Oh, Aunt Sheila really shouldn’t have booked us an Uber just to get back to the hotel. Doesn’t she know the bus fare is only five dollars sixty?”

“Yes, but the walk from the nearest bus stop to the hotel is twenty minutes,” said Kyle slowly. “If anyone ends up piss drunk or wants to crash in their room, no one wants to have a twenty-minute walk before checking in to the hotel.”

“But really though, a twenty-minute walk is a great opportunity for some personal exercise," Levy supported. "Really, don't you think the cost of convenience in today's society is getting out of hand?"

“Sure, but I for one, am thankful for my mother paying for the convenience and safety of me not having to walk back to my room to get shanked by some holiday drunk on the way back to the hotel at three am," Kyle muttered angrily.

“Come on, let’s get this over with already,” he grumbled, dragging Kenny alongside him into the venue before the unholy trinity of aspiring Jewish banker, doctor and lawyer could drag them into their debates of finer saving. 

Holding silver tickets, the quintet were given line-cutting privileges. The five of them made their way to the front of the venue, while jealous standard ticket holders eyed them enviously.

When Kyle said there were typically over a thousand attendees to events like this, he sure wasn’t kidding. It was barely past nine so the party was not even in full swing yet but the place was packed. Lines of presumably Jewish youths lined the walls while the dance floor was crowded. Everyone was dancing to their own rhythm as the DJ played outdated mid-twenty-tens tracks. The carpeted lagoon blue floor was trampled by hundreds of eager party guests and the columns were draped in spiralling silver tinsel and Stars of David. Fucking tacky if you asked Kyle.

The dimmed lighting only served to highlight the semi-public sideline making out and the bar had a nice long line of guys trying to buy girls drinks for an easy conversation starter. It was like every high school drama, Tinder stereotype, and awkward prom rolled into one, and Kyle wanted nothing more than to turn right back around to the doors and leave.

"Oh look, I think that's our table over there," Schwartz said, pointing over to an empty silver adorned alcove. "Come on cousin Kyle, come with me and let's m-mingle."

Before Kyle could commit homicide using some very creative methods using Schwartz's douchey ascot, Kyle was dragged by an assuring Kenny to join the trio of Connecticut natives at their seats and a complimentary bottle of wine was provided to them. Kyle wasted no time on pouring himself a glass, reminding him to pace himself because this was going to be a _very_ long night. 

* * *

Almost immediately, Kenny was accosted by a guy who came up to him at their silver table. Unphased when Kenny corrected him that he was a man, he started telling Kenny all about how he was in IT and was working on the next biggest thing since Twitter. Kyle was then introduced to a Harvard girl who was studying physiotherapy.

It was fascinating watching the scene interact. It was like an odd mix between a job interview and a Tinder free-for-all.

A few people actually skipped the foreplay of asking about Kenny and Kyle’s future job prospects and went straight to asking them what they looked for in a girlfriend, or whether they wanted to 'get out of here'. A blonde woman who looked at least thirty had grabbed Kyle’s ass and started the conversation with “I’m a health and safety inspector. Health inspections are free, safety's gonna cost extra. Would you like to learn some safety tonight?” with a saucy wink that had him quickly backing up thirty paces while Kenny distracted her by admiring her large breasts. 

While Kyle was spending his evening trying to dodge every female in the vicinity, Kenny was having a blast. Besides the obvious attention he was getting, front row seats to frustrated and flustered Kyle was fun to poke fun at. He kept refilling their glasses with the wine that he and Kenny were supposed to share with the Conneticutians and was _supposed_ to last them through the evening. But Schwartz couldn't have due to some abnormality in his enzymes that didn't let him digest alcohol, meaning it would just sit undigested in his stomach until it either passed or he died of alcohol poisoning, whichever came first. And as a show of solidarity, neither Levy nor Alec would take a sip too, so Kyle and Kenny had the whole bottle to themselves.

Fancy wine was great and all, Kenny had to admit, but he still preferred the simpler things in life. Like a good old fashioned beer. But he had to admit, the indulgence did make him feel a little more like a Princess. 

As the night went on past eleven, Kenny had a whole notebook full of new numbers now, and a sizeable collection of business cards from people who came prepared, preferring to simply hand out cards than bother themselves with writing down a number with so many other eligible Jewish bachelors in the vicinity.

A lot of people had complimented him on his outfit and makeup. Karen had really outdone herself. And while Kenny might've liked to do nothing else than to find an empty bathroom stall with the nearest willing body, preferably redheaded and bitchy, he hadn’t yet sacked up the balls to ask Kyle to take a minute away from all the hubbub. In the meantime, he had a job to do as Kyle's self-appointed helping hand according to Kyle’s mother. Not that Kenny was actually being very helpful. True to his word, and accurate to the point of the Matzo Ball, Kenny was busy playing Kyle’s unwanted wingman. 

“Oh great, here comes another one.” Kyle groaned. He’s been eyeing up party goers all evening, measuring the amount of eye contact he was given before someone decided to make their approach. He counted an average of five seconds of eye contact before someone eventually tried to come on to him. It was pretty accurate so far of giving him ample time to bail whenever someone’s eye contact lasted a little over four seconds.

Kenny looked over to where Kyle was looking. A pretty brunette in a smart button-down butterfly collared white shirt and pencil skirt was sitting at one of the nearby tables, and she gave Kyle a blown kiss.

“Oh come on, she’s pretty cute.”

“She came to a Matzo Ball, that’s all I need to know about her. I’m gonna dip,” Kyle announced, moving to get up. 

“Hold up there, cowboy,” Kenny said, stopping Kyle from getting off his chair. “You’ve been acting standoffish and prude all fucking evening, what’s even gotten into you?”

Kyle cocked an eyebrow at Kenny disbelievingly.

“Hello? Did you miss the memo where I didn’t want to be here in the first place? Chances are, she’s Jewish, comes from a snobbish background, wants to know if I’ll make a six-figure salary and figure out if I’m husband material. There is nothing she can say that will make me interested in her.”

“Oh come on, you’re being a little unfair don’t you think?” Kenny said, miffed. An internal part of him was delighted that Kyle didn’t want to mingle with the locals, but it also was a bit of a downer to see his friend so sour all evening. Kenny wanted to see Kyle lighten up a bit.

“You’re starting to sound like you’re stereotyping everyone here like a self-loathing Jew. Cartman would have a field day if he could see you now.”

“If Cartman were here he’d have a field day period.” Kyle huffed. “I’m outta here.”

“Kyle, look at her.” Kenny implored, turning back to the girl, who had put her drink down, and was starting to come over.

“Seriously, I think you should at least try to give the girl a chance, maybe she won’t immediately ask what your future job prospects are and if you plan on owning a Tesla. At least try to talk to her first okay? Your mum spent six hundred dollars for you to meet people, so may as well give this thing an honest shot right?” Kenny asked. “Shh she’s getting close, don’t bite her head off before she speaks okay?” he hissed. 

The brunette came over to their table and sat on the chair next to Kyle smiling coyly. 

“Hi there,” she said in a light and pretty voice. Kenny noticed a slight scent that wafted around her that reminded him of warm syrupy waffles. It was an interesting departure from the parade of lavender, jasmine and sandalwood scented perfumes that had preceded her.

“I’m Vanessa. You two look nice,” she said, leaning in to show off her ample cleavage.

Kyle gave Kenny a look like he wanted to say. _‘Okay so she’s not a trophy husband hunter, but she’s thirsty.’_ Kenny rolled his eyes and tried to telepathically reply with _‘shut up don’t be rude. Now say something back to her so you don’t seem awkward.’_

Kyle finally put down his glass and gave a small wave. “Hi Vanessa, I’m Kyle Broflovski, and this is my friend Kenny McCormick,” Kyle said through barely gritted teeth. It looked just shy of unfriendly, but not like he was going to bite her head off. Kenny would take it. 

“Thank you, I like your top,” Kenny replied breezily.

"Me and my man Ky were just talking about how we're just so glad that this party is mostly attended to by hot Jewish singles in the area. Not just because it sounds like a kosher porn ad, but because if we're all single, there's a significantly lower chance for any surprise drama to break out over an out of hand Christmas gender reveal party, you know?" He laughed.

The girl laughed behind her hand and set her purse down on the table, making herself more comfortable now that introductions were out of the way. 

“Wow, so you’re the funny friend. I guess that makes Kyle the cute one then?.” she said with a wink. Kyle flushed and tried to turn away, but Kenny caught his elbow before he could escape and hooked his foot around Kyle’s ankle and the leg of his chair, covertly pinning him to it. 

Kenny stole the bottle of wine from Kyle’s hands before he could pretend to pour himself another glass and drink it to avoid making conversation with Vanessa. “Well, I can’t really argue with that assessment. What brings a pretty girl like yourself to the Matzo ball Vanessa? You look like you’d fit in more at a sorority party if you don’t mind me saying myself. Don’t mind my man Kyle, he’s a little shy.” Kenny said with a sly grin. She giggled. 

“Oh, shut up. Me at a sorority?" She clapped her hands delightedly, like that was the best joke she's heard all evening. Really, though, she must have not had a lot of practice tonight because she was laying on the saccharine cheeriness kind of thick. Kenny was charming, but he wasn't even being all that funny. The falsetto delight fell from Vanessa's face, however, as she adopted a more muted and earnest tone.

"Truth be told, I was actually not planning on coming to a lame party like this till my editor got on my back about doing a nice, culturally inclusive piece about the local Jewish scene. I’m not really into these Jewish social events myself.”

“Really?” Kenny said, elbowing Kyle to get his attention. “You work for a local paper or something? Like the Denver Morning Post or?”

“Oh god, no.” She giggle-snorted. “Do I look like a big city girl? Thanks, I really try. No, I’m from a little town in North Park.”

“You don’t say?” Kenny said, eyebrows rising on his face. “We’re from right next door. We’re from South Park.”

“No, way.” Vanessa gasped. “A Jewish family in South Park? Oh my god, we were like, the only Jewish family in North Park.”

Kyle actually seemed mildly interested now. “Really? Same, except in South Park obviously.” he amended. 

“That’s amazing! I didn’t think I’d meet another small townie here! Usually, these events only attract-”

“Big city folk” Kyle finished with her. They both laughed nervously at that. Kyle finally took note of the girl, making direct eye contact and everything. 

She looked to Kyle for permission before tracing a hand over Kyle's front, admiring his tie. “So, I noticed you’re wearing a very interesting pin on your tie, can I ask where you got it?”

“Actually, it's handmade,” Kyle said, was he blushing slightly? ' _Gotcha_ ,' Kenny thought. He tried to ignore the heart splintering spear that just gouged its way into his chest.

“It’s this stupid emblem of the Elves of Zaron, a silly game we played together as kids,” Kyle explained.

“Wait, you were into role-playing games?” Vanessa asked with a huge, dorky grin. “No way, I knew I recognised you. You’re Kyle the High Jew Elf King right? I played on the side of the Moorish! I loved role-playing as a kid. Did you ever play online RPGs?

“No way, you were one of the Moorish?” Kyle laughed. “Jeez, that’s when you know we both live in small towns.”

 _Mission accomplished. Operation: Get Kyle to Stop Being Upset is a success_.' Kenny thought bitterly. _Too much of a success_. If he was being honest with himself, Kenny would say he was personally hoping that Kyle wouldn’t meet anyone compatible tonight. That this Vanessa character, would’ve been another stuck up bitch and Kyle would have completely given up on the scene, and Kenny would take him back to the hotel and confess his feelings to him in the privacy of their own rooms. But that was a selfish thought to have. Besides, these people were much more in Kyle’s league than Kenny was. Who was he kidding?

“Oh look,” Kenny announced unconvincingly, standing up. “I just got a text, I think Alec is looking for me. He just texted me that he wants to talk to me about the finer points of skirt wearing when you have male gonads. Who knew he was also into that stuff? You two have fun alright? I’m gonna head off.” 

Kyle frowned. “Wait, do you even have his number-?”

Kenny didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Kyle calling him out on his shitty bald-faced lie. He was doing his duty giving them space as a wingman. He also knew he couldn’t sit there and watch the three-act circus that was going to be Kyle and Vanessa’s inevitable blossoming awkward romance. He didn’t hate himself that much yet.

Kenny’s new objective now was to get as plastered as possible, and possibly get nailed. Or do the nailing, honestly, anything would do at this point.

He had just actively participated in blowing his chance with Kyle before he even got to the hurdles. Who was he even kidding though? Kenny knew he had about a snowball's chance in hell with that stupid redhead anyway. It was better that he get over this heartache now before it developed into something worse.

Through some miracle, Kyle didn't forget about them for newer, cooler friends in college, but it was just a matter of time. Kyle was always too smart, too good for a small little podunk mountain town like South Park. Too good for a guy like Kenny. The first chance he got to escape that hell hole through pursuing higher learning and Kyle shot out of there like a rocket. Sure, there was some regret when he had to leave Stan and Kenny behind, but that's all they were to a high achiever like Kyle. That's all Kenny would ever be. A fleeting regret.

Even if Kyle through some miracle reciprocated his feelings, it was probably only going to be temporary. He clearly belonged here. With other people more in his league. Luckily, Kenny was probably in the best place in the world right now to find a willing partner to forget his problems with.

* * *

His name was Nathaniel. Or was it Issac? Something biblical Kenny was sure, but he was feeling up Kenny’s chest, dragging his jacket from his arms, throwing it into the darkness and Kenny didn’t care anymore.

They were in the coat closet, Kenny was dragging his nails through Probably-Nathaniel’s hair whispering encouragingly. He dragged a hand down his back and gripped a pert ass cheek which had Probably-Nathaniel gasping. Warmth planted itself on Kenny's neck and began administering passionate abuse to the site raising the hair on his skin in poignant gooseflesh. Probably-Nathaniel was taking off his watch and shrugging off his own jacket as Kenny furiously humped against the nice, solid form when suddenly, the door opened and someone burst in on them.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! Wait, Kenny?” a voice squeaked.

Kenny stopped undoing his partner’s tie. “Huh? Vanessa?” Kenny asked, dazed. He blinked. The awkward brunette flushed something fierce, looking at the two of them. “I-I was going to get my coat and turn in for the night. But you know what? That can wait, sorry for interrupting you-” Vanessa went to close the door but Kenny stopped her.

“Wait, you mean Kyle’s taking you home?” Kenny asked, crestfallen. Nathaniel or whatever his name was, was trying to keep pawing at Kenny's buttons and close the closet door, but Kenny stubbornly stuck his foot in the gap keeping it open.

“What? No! No, actually he’s looking for you at your table.” Vanessa said, still avoiding either of their eyes.

“You should probably text him that you’re busy.” She nodded to Maybe-Nathaniel, acknowledging him by name.

“Elijah.” 

Oh. Shit.

She then closed the door on Kenny's dumbstruck face, immersing the two in darkness once more.

“Now then, where were we?” Apparently-Elijah asked, turning back to Kenny.

He started up his affections again, this time dragging a hand under Kenny's skirt and tracing patterns over Kenny's stocking enveloped inner thigh, when Kenny felt his phone vibrate in his skirt pocket.

Elijah frowned at the sensation. "Sounds like someone's trying to reach you. Better let them know you're busy right now, yeah?"

While normally Kenny was inclined to agree, the niggling echoes of Vanessa's comments bounced around his head. _'He's looking for you at your table,'_ and so reluctantly, Kenny pushed Elijah away slightly to shove a hand into his skirt and pull out his device. He saw, of course, Kyle’s name light up the screen.

Kyle B   
  
Kenny, where’d you go? Can you come find me?   
  


The laving at his neck was getting really distracting, and if he closed his eyes he could imagine Elijah was just a bit shorter than he was, the darkness meant Kenny could pretend he was a bit more redheaded. He could pretend, for a little bit. But the hair smelled all wrong and Elijah just didn't seem as aggressive or _passionate_ enough as Kenny had always envisioned. He was soft and casual. Not enough _spitfire._ And instantly, it killed the illusion. 

“Uh, dude look, I’m so sorry," Kenny said, pulling away, feeling awkward. Jeez, it wasn’t every day he had to cut a rendezvous short like this. Usually, he was the one getting blue balled by random hookups having second thoughts, not the other way around.

“But that interruption kinda killed my boner. Plus my friend’s really looking for me-”

“Can’t you just get back to them later?” Elijah asked, disappointed. “Surely you can tell him to wait a little while. We can get back to where we left off,” he said enticingly, kissing his way up to Kenny’s ear from his neck. Kenny shivered, but-

“Sorry dude,” he said, reluctantly pulling away once more, as another text vibrated on his phone. He glanced at it.

Kyle B   
  
Kenny, where’d you go? Can you come find me?   
  
Kenny seriously, come back, please?   
  


Shit. Kyle was begging again. Kenny could never say no to Kyle as a kid, not even when he had to take a potentially life-threatening, questionably safe flight on a dodgy City Airlines flight to Canada, and he wasn't about to start now.

“Look I’m sure this would’ve been magical, but I really got to get back to my friend. I have your number though, I’ll call you.” Kenny said, hastily exiting the coat closet and straightening his skirts.

He stumbled a bit as he retightened the straps of his shoes again, finding his footing. Fucking heels. He graceless left the unfortunate Kyle-substitute, who shrugged and went on to meet a new one night stand at the bar. Kenny made his way back to the area set aside for the silver tables where he found Kyle glumly falling asleep next to Schwartz and his friends.

* * *

“Ah, Kenny! There you are. Kyle was beginning to think you’d wandered off.” Schwartz said, spittle flying from his mouth. Kenny expertly dodged the liquid projectile and sashayed his way to Kyle's side.

“Nah dude, I wouldn’t leave my buddy hanging like that,” Kenny said, shooting finger guns.

“Well, that’s good, because I was beginning to think we’d have to start Alec’s mocktail shots without you. Isn’t he such a thoughtful friend? Now I too can partake of the social drinking practices of the youth.” 

Kenny clapped Schwartz on the back supportively, and the cousin of his best friend went back to talking with his friends about their plans for winter break after the Matzo Ball. Kenny went to take his seat at the table.

“So like, what happened with Vanessa dude? I just saw her leaving the party.” Kenny asked. 

“Oh,” Kyle waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Doesn’t matter, it didn’t work out after all.”

“What?” Kenny said, surprised. “But you guys were going so well! She was totally your type, right? Nerdy, cute, not too much of a city girl.”

“Wasn’t interested.” Kyle shrugged. “So where’d you go off to anyways? I didn’t see you for ages. And where's your jacket?”

“Oh, I must've left it in the coat closet. I went to, you know, socialise…” Kenny said elusively.

Kyle tilted his head suspiciously, not entirely sure he liked that tone of Kenny's voice. What was he hiding? Did he go off to smoke a joint or- Then, he noticed something. “Hey, what’s that on your neck?”

Kenny’s hand clapped to the discoloured spot automatically. “Huh?”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed “Oh my god Kenny, is that a _hickey?”_ Kenny gave a small guilty shrug.

Kyle let out a despairing sigh. “Ugh, I’m sorry Kenny. Did I interrupt your night with my texts? Sorry. Just because I’m being a stick in the mud doesn’t mean I should take you out of your element. Go on back to her Kenny, I’m sure she’s missing you right now.”

“It wasn’t a girl.” Kenny blurted without thinking. 

Kyle stopped. “Huh.“ He said, not reacting to the revelation with little more than a blink. “Alright then, why don’t you get back to him?”

“Cause you, my friend, are still single.” Kenny sing-songed.

"But I don't even _want_ to meet anyone here-" Kyle spluttered. 

“And I made a solemn vow to your mum that you’d meet a girl you liked tonight."

"Kenny, you don't have to try to get me set up-"

"I mean, no one’s even asking you to make a commitment and tie the knot or anything. Just find a nice girl, or guy, I don’t judge, and take a few pics with you snogging or something and she’ll get off your back.”

“Kenny, would you please stop that!” Kyle exploded. Schwartz, Levy, and Alec stopped what they were talking about and glanced at the pair curiously. Kenny was surprised, he wasn’t expecting Kyle to go off on him like that unexpectedly. He hadn’t done anything, had he?

“Erm, come on guys, I think my acid reflux has settled down enough that I think I can have some fish,” Schwartz said. “We’ll catch you later Cousin Kyle.”

The three awkwardly left the table, leaving Kenny and Kyle alone at their table. Echoes of his mother telling Kyle not to leave his cousin's side whispered in his ear, but did it still count if Schwartz left of his own volition? 

“Did I upset you?” Kenny asked, fidgeting uncertainly under the intense gaze of his redheaded friend. 

“Yes! No. Maybe?” Kyle growled irritatedly.

Kenny smiled. “Are you aware that you just replied with every possible answer to that question?”

“Don’t be a smart mouth right now Kenny.” Kyle snapped, pointing at him. He groaned and poured himself another mocktail from Alec’s abandoned bottle. Frowning when it didn’t give him that signature alcoholic burn he so desired at this moment.

“Look Kenny, I get that you’re just trying to help me. But I get enough of this pushing from my mother okay? I didn’t ask you to come with me tonight to be my wingman. I asked you to come here so I’d have someone to talk to. So I wouldn't be alone. I asked you to come here so I’d have a _friend_ . Can’t we just do that, please?” Kenny felt his heart clench at the word _‘friend’_.

“Sure Ky, anything you want,” he whispered forlornly.

Kenny felt his heart skip a beat when Kyle brought his hand up to trace the sore rouge left on Kenny’s neck.

“Oh, but I’ve already ruined your night haven’t I?” Kyle said quietly. “Shit, I’m sorry. You should… you should go back out there. I can stay and talk with Alec or something. Maybe give him pointers on asking Levy out. The poor girl’s been waiting all evening for me to make a move but I can see he's-” 

“No, Ky,” Kenny said, taking Kyle’s hand and taking it off his face before Kenny did something stupid like turn and kiss his fingertips.

“No, I- I’ll stay here,” he said quietly.

“Are you sure Kenny?" Asked Kyle, a look of concern adorned on his face. "There’s a lot of tail you could be chasing out there. I heard the health and safety inspector lady is still looking for a boy toy to spoil in her hotel room-”

“No, I’m sure,” Kenny said finally. “Besides, I wanted to come here to spend time with you too, Ky. Chasing tail was always a nice bonus. But I came here for _you_ .” ' _More literally than you know,"_ Kenny thought secretly. 

“Thanks,” Kyle smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might be able to tell, this was about where I started to give up keeping a single perspective per line break. I'M SORRY IF IT'S HARD TO READ. But I just want to include all the little uncertainties Kenny and Kyle could be feeling towards one another, and I just couldn't kill my darlings and stick to one perspective. It's a crime, I know. But I knew if I kept trying to edit it to fit nicely between perspectives I'd never end up posting this.
> 
> Googled Lexicon of Yiddish/Hebrishisms
> 
> khaloymes - dreams, fantasies, wild dreams, wishful thinking. 
> 
> Bubale/bubbie - a nickname that someone is adorable. Literally 'doll' buba- and -le to show affection.
> 
> sheyne meydel - beautiful girl
> 
> shtotty - fancy
> 
> goy - non-Jew.
> 
> goy-ish - not actually a word, just a Yinglish phrase I think turned about from Jewish people describing white people things. LIke "that's very white" to "that's very goy-ish"


	3. Chai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all just sort of, came spilling out okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More apologies for inconsistent perspective-shifting, but if I tried to fix it, I'm pretty sure this fic would never have gotten posted.

When Kenny wasn’t actively trying to set him up with another girl, and all they did was shoot the shit about other partygoers, the night was actually quite enjoyable, Kyle thought.

They made little bets about who they thought was going to get together that night, who was going to be going on a nice date later in the week, and who was only out for a nice hot weekend of kinky sex and came up with little backstories for every couple. There was a particularly hilarious backstory Kenny had cooked up involving a dark-haired couple secretly being undercover aliens trying to learn the culture of the Jews to bring back to their home planet. 

“Okay so those two, see under the purple streamers there?” Kenny said, pointing a couple out.

“The waiter and the girl in the green pantsuit?” Kyle asked, puzzled.

“Exactly. She looks like she’s going to be this well, put together suburban mum right? I bet you fifty bucks she has a boyfriend already. No way someone like her is still single, and she looks too classy to be going to a place like this for a rebound hook up. I bet you dollars to doughnuts she’s getting ready to invite Mr Waiter to a hot threesome he can’t refuse.”

“What? No way. She literally looks like she walked off the cover of ‘Lawyers Tomorrow’” Kyle chuckled, shaking his head.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Kenny hissed, his breath smelling like the mocktail Alec had left on their table. Kenny had expertly spiked it with some rum he snuck in from his bartending job at Skeeters. There are whole dimensions that could be hidden under skirts, Kyle had discovered. 

“It’s the suburban ones you’ve got to look out for. They’re the best at hiding under normalcy, because they don’t want anyone knowing at night they get their freak on.”

“Shut up Kenny, there’s no way.” Kyle laughed. Not everyone was as sexually _adventurous_ as Kenny. He had to be exaggerating. 

“Look, look, look!” Kenny said excitedly.

Kyle tried to look discreetly, without tipping off their victims that they were being spied on. He saw the girl in the green pantsuit take out her phone and show it to the waiter. He looked on in astonishment as the waiter then gulped and smoothed back his hair, nodding, and pair walked to the doors where the waiter switched shifts with another waiter. Then the pair met up with a girl in a cute bubblegum pink skirt by the doors as the three exited the establishment together. 

“Oof, my gaydar must be on the fritz, she had a girlfriend.” Kenny clicked his tongue. “I must be losing my touch.”

“You got lucky. I call bullshit. You got all that just from her green _pantsuit?”_ Kyle asked.

“Obviously,” said Kenny, confidently leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “Never doubt the master Ky. Now you have a go.”

Kyle shook his head in disbelief. Maybe as an individual well versed in the language of hooking up, Kenny just had a knack for spotting underlying themes in casual flings. Kyle scanned the dance floor for a viable couple for him to hypothesise a backstory for, his eyes landing on a couple who were obnoxiously grinding on one another, regardless of the social repercussions and stigma from all around them.

“Those two,” he pointed out. Kenny looked over and nodded approvingly.

“She… owns a hair salon and he’s a sheltered physicist." Kyle decided.

"This is their first night without parental supervision so they’re overcompensating their lack of sexual experiences by being obnoxiously overt with one another on the dance floor, but once they hit the bedroom he won’t even know which hole to put it in.”

Kenny slapped his hand on the table as he started guffawing.

“Dude, I actually think you’re right on the money with that one!” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

" _Are there supposed to be three holes? What is the force required to penetrate the hymen?"_ Kenny gave a goofy, gruff impression of a nerdy, lost physicist while gesturing crudely the mechanics of the ill-fated coitus. 

"And the girl? What does the girl say?" Kyle asked, choking back laughter.

"Oh god, so much rug burn on my _thighs,_ " Kenny tittered in the shittiest princess falsetto voice Kyle hadn't heard in years. "Babe, you've _got_ to do some manscaping down there before I let you near my _coochie_ again."

Kyle had to grip his sides as he doubled over laughing at Kenny's antics. "Okay, okay, stop it or I'll bust a second kidney. Go next, who else is at this ball?" 

Kenny dropped his 'Princess' voice and scanned the surrounding area with a fine-tooth comb. 

“Okay, hear me out about this one,” he said eagerly, flicking his eyes to the bathroom doors.

Kyle looked over, where a guy with a neckbeard exited the stalls with a girl in a puffy teal top indiscreetly exited the same stall looking appropriately dishevelled. “The guy with the neckbeard and the girl he’s with who look like they've both just had sex? Yeah, what about them?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah. The guy with the neckbeard is totally using that girl as a beard. Notice the way he keeps looking back to his homie in the red tie there? Literal. Heart. Eyes. Dude.” Kenny said. “He’s so far in the closet he probably won’t come out till he has a mid-life crisis at the age of forty with three kids and a house.”

They peered at the couple as they began aggressively making out in front of the bathrooms. Now that Kenny had planted the idea of the older gentleman being secretly gay, Kyle _did_ think the aggressiveness _could_ be mistaken for overcompensation. “Yeah?" Kyle asked offhandedly. "What makes you think he’s not just bisexual dude?”

“Cause dude, he won’t even touch the girl’s boob, and even after they’ve clearly already had sex,” Kenny said confidently.

“So? I’ve had sex with Heidi, and I don’t wanna touch her boobs. Doesn’t make me gay though.” Kyle said casually. 

Kenny blinked. 

“Wait, you’ve had sex with Heidi?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Of course, Kenny would pester for details, be shouldn't have said anything. “Yeah. S’not a big deal Kenny. Pretty sure you banged that Tammy chick when you were like, thirteen. I still think that was _highly_ irresponsible by the way.”

“And when, pray tell, did this little adventurous romp with Heidi take place?” Kenny questioned.

“Does it matter?" Kyle asked exasperatedly, wanting to move away from his own hookup stories.

He felt very awkward talking about his own sexual experiences. He hadn't told anyone about his sexual experimentation in high school, not even Stan. He wasn't much for _bragging_ about things like this. "It was, I dunno, at Jimmy’s eighteenth probably?”

“Oh you sly dog, and you didn’t think to tell your dear friend Kenny?” Kenny asked, feeling somewhat hurt. Okay, maybe a lot hurt. 

“No, because unlike you, I don’t think what I do with my dick should be everyone else’s business." Kyle snipped. "Wasn't all that great though. A bit too slobbery for my tastes. Six out of ten. Would bang again if I had nothing else going on I guess.”

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean Heidi’s a nice girl.” Kenny said. 

Kyle shrugged. “I mean yeah, but I don’t know. I wasn't the biggest fan. And I don’t think I’m gay either, cause I slept with David too in sophomore year, and while it was probably better than when I was with Heidi, I think it was more because David knew a little better what he was doing. I still didn’t have this big, gay epiphany or anything."

Kenny looked at Kyle uncertainly, like he wasn't sure what he should do with the information.

Kyle felt his face flush suddenly, embarrassed by the invasive, personal details he's already divulged. He felt like Kenny was judging him, but was just too polite to say anything as his friend. "Look, it's not like I'm against sex," he said quickly. "I just don't get what all the hoopla is about. Everyone talks about asses and vaginas like they’re god’s gift to man, but honestly it just kinda grosses me out that they’re just kinda still orifices.”

Kenny snorted and cracked a grin. “Well, you’re obviously gifted at pillow talk.”

Kyle shrugged, looking away from his friend pointedly so he wouldn't see the red on his face from divulging such personal opinions. Normally, people said they couldn't get Kyle to shut up about his opinions. "Someone's gotta say it like it is."

“Wait, so to clarify, you don’t feel sexual attraction then?” Kenny asked, wanting to affirm this for once and for all.

Kyle gulped nervously. He hadn't really been much of one for labelling himself. Society and Cartman had done enough labelling to last him a lifetime. “Um, mostly I guess? I mean I still like having sex. Like it _felt_ good, I still like jacking off and shit. But I don't really think of people that way? God, why am I even telling you this?” Kyle laughed, hiding his face behind his hands,

“Hey no, come on. Tell Uncle Kenny more.” Kenny laughed, trying to fight down this burgeoning sense of revelation that was just around the corner. “No seriously, tell me more. This is highly relevant to my current interests,” he said in a deadpan voice. 

“Pssh, shut up! You just want to hear more about my sex stories for your spank bank material!” Kyle said hotly, getting irritated and flushing a bright red, abandoning hiding it behind the fortress of his hands to glare at Kenny disapprovingly.

“No, I’m serious Ky,” Kenny said, he elbowed Kyle lightly. Kenny's smile faded slightly but didn't go away altogether. “Tell me more, I wanna know. It’s for real, relevant to my current interests.”

“And what interests might those be, if not some perverted folder of imaginations you have?” Kyle snarked back, folding his arms defensively.

“You,” Kenny said quietly.

The silence that followed was nothing short of awkward as a pastor discovering a lucrative stash of anal beads at a nunnery. “I, uh. What?” Kyle asked dumbly.

Under the dimmed dining lights of the Matzo Ball, Kenny's face dusted pink at the admission. He pulled his sheer sleeves around himself self-consciously and rubbed at his shoulders. Kenny coughed frustratedly, trying to speak through the growing lump in his throat without sounding like a nervous wreck.

“I tried not to. Honest. I just couldn’t fucking help it. I ... I actually kind of really, really like... Love you, Kyle.” he looked at him earnestly, and Kyle honestly didn't know what to say. He wasn't expecting this. He didn't think either of them were exactly expecting deep-seated sexuality revelations when they agreed to come to this stupid ball together, but that's how this stupid cookie seemed to have crumbled.

* * *

They were starting to garner some funny looks from the other nearby silver table patrons. It wasn't everyday someone just drops the "L" word in a meet-market designed for simple hookups. Nosy Nancies pretended not to stare while covertly turning their ears towards the pair to eavesdrop.

Kyle was looking uncomfortable with all the attention. He was flitting glances around trying to glare the other patrons into submission and keep their noses on their own goddamn businesses. Truth be told, Kenny didn't exactly want to spill his guts to Kyle next to Jane the Gynaecologist humping Fraser the Producer, Kenny actually had cards from both of them, and a 20% off discount code for a gyno checkup.

Feeling the unperturbed gazes of the surrounding onlookers, Kenny made a suggestion. "Uh, look I clearly have a lot to unpackage here, so could we maybe go outside for this next bit? Somewhere a bit quieter? I can't guarantee it's going to be pretty." he tried to laugh it off nervously. 

Kyle nodded mutely and let Kenny lead him through the crowds. He grabbed Kyle's wrist, not daring to let his fingers brush the other boy's hand and dragged him along.

It was a bit of a blur. The flashing lights, warm bodies pressing in from all sides, a brief farewell to Kyle's cousin and co, and before Kyle knew it, they were out the doors into the chilly night standing by the frozen fountain. It was almost midnight now, and the lines had long subsided. Only a few party-goers calling it an early night or going off to hook up in a hotel room sparsely dotted the area. A few drunk outsiders were counting down the minutes until Christmas day and hollered at anyone in anything mildly resembling a skirt who exited the Matzo Ball.

Kenny looked like he wanted to keep moving and maybe run away into the night forever, forgetting he had said anything to Kyle, but Kyle twisted his arm from Kenny's grip and grabbed his hand, holding him back. Kenny looked to their intertwined fingers confusedly, like he wasn't seeing them.

"Kenny, wait. Don't go. Tell me now." Kyle spoke past the growing ball of anxiety lodged in his throat. "Tell me what you wanted to tell me inside. Please don't hide, I don't want you to run."

Kenny finally turned around slowly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Kyle's eyes. His fingers were still loosely held in Kyle's hands as the cold night air fogged in front of his face in soft puffs. It might've been his imagination or the cold, but Kenny could swear there was a pink flush decorating Kyle's cheeks. The snow lazily drifted from the sky in delicate flakes that melted instantly on contact with Kyle's warm skin. It was very nice skin, soft and warmth like the sun. It was a stark contrast to how cold Kenny was, where the flakes settled to sleep. Cold skin, like the dead. The skin of a corpse. That's what Kenny always thought on the days he wanted to make sure he still woke up with a pulse. Or maybe that was because Kenny was still wearing his sheer sleeved shirt and forgot to grab his jacket from the coat closet on the way out. He didn't shiver though, Kenny was too nervous to shiver.

Kyle stared at Kenny, who was still refusing to look him in the eye. 

"Kenny, _look_ at me." Reluctantly, Kenny peeled his eyes from the tarmac and locked eyes with the hazel-eyed redhead in front of him. The spring steeped, kind, tawny eyes gripped him with their imploring gaze. A slight breeze was slowly ruffling the red curls from their carefully pampered place in the blue-tinged light, and Kyle's fingertips traced across Kenny's. 

"Tell me."

There was a tirade of emotion simmering beneath the surface, a well of _feelings_ that hadn't had a satisfying outlet since Kenny was like, fourteen, and Kenny couldn’t help it anymore. It just came spewing out in a tsunami of confessions that he couldn't hold back even if he tried. It was graceless, it was emotional, it was raw, it was all Kenny.

“I maybe, sorta, have a crush on you Ky?" Kenny started, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't enveloped in Kyle's warm fingers nervously. "Probably since sixth grade? I honestly think I… I love you?"

He couldn't look at Kyle's reaction, now that it was out in the open. God, was he the goddamn cheese factory? Feelings weren't always Kenny's forte. That was Stan's department as the strong, sensitive one. Kenny, he was much more of a smoke it out and shag it out kinda guy. Hey, no one said it was healthy, but it's what got him through the shittiest years in his childhood, and he stood by it. But dammit all, if Kenny was going to sabotage this moment he's been working up towards by smoking up or fucking away his feelings until he felt a little less empty inside. No, he wasn't going to fuck this up for himself. Not when it took so long to get here in the first place. Granted, it wasn't the path he had _planned_ to take by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't like he even _had_ a game plan tonight for his grand confession, so this was as good as any. Kenny looked to the stars for the courage to plough on ahead. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

"You… _love_ me?" Kyle asked. Shit. Kenny couldn't tell what Kyle was thinking. His voice was carefully measured, hiding his emotions from Kenny. But Kenny wasn't ready to face him. Not yet. Not until Kyle really _got_ what Kenny meant. He _said_ he loved him, but Kyle had to get Kenny _meant_ it. He meant it in every way. 

"Yeah, Ky. I… really, really love you. Like, I can't even begin to cover it." Kenny, ironically enough, began. He steeled his nerves and continued.

"I love that you're literally the smartest kid from our year. I think it's really _hot_ when you punch Cartman in his stupid face. I love your soft curly hair, I love that it's red, and I like your dorky little ushanka, even though I think you shouldn't use it to cover your hair. I love that it goes frizzy in the wind, and I loved it when you were falling asleep on me on the bus, you'd have a little pillow of red fuzz to lean on me. I love your voice, it's so clear and so strong, I could listen to you for days, even when you're being a total bitch killjoy. I love that everything about you is like, unapologetically loud. Like you need to be noticed, like you need to be heard, and you're so, _so_ unafraid of being heard. I love that you can absolutely decimate me at video games. I love that you try to teach me how to get better at them. I loved that little self-satisfied smirk you'd get when you answered nerd things at school. I love that you pursued basketball out of _sheer, fucking, spite_ when the coach told you, you were too short and eventually became captain. I saw your stupid basketball game against North Park when we were sixteen and I told you I had to go pick up my sister from swimming, but really you should be known better 'cause when would I be able to afford to send my sister to swim team? So what I really needed to do was jack off into the toilets because like, hot damn. I didn't know that sweat could look so sexy on short Jewish boys before that day."

Kenny paused for breath, honestly impressed he had even made it this far, and Kyle hadn't yet hit him.

He finally managed to look at Kyle's face again and what he saw was uplifting. Kyle looked… encouraging. Like he really wanted to hear the rest of what Kenny was saying. He was also now red as all hell, the flush on his face beginning to rival the hue of his hair, but he didn't look like he was going to run away. Emboldened, Kenny crashed on.

"I love that you don’t accept the rest of the sleepy, godforsaken town's bullshit. I loved your corny little speeches about morality and bettering yourself because you _genuinely_ believe in people. You believe anyone can be better, do better, even the racist smalltown bozos we grew up with. Even, even me." Kenny mumbled, feeling warm and uncomfortably claustrophobic in his own skin. God, where did all this confidence come from in the last few minutes?

"I love how you'll fight just about anyone about anything, you're fucking fearless Ky, but you've really got to stand up to your mother more often. I know I know, unstoppable force meets immovable object am I right? But if anyone can do it, it's you Ky."

He looked Kyle in the eyes and tried to convey with all his heart imploringly exactly how much this stupid redhead meant to him. He took Kyle's hand in his own, and laid it over his heart and poured it out in a sloppy, goopy, disorganised mess.

"I think I _realised_ I loved you, when I realised I missed you when you left for Princeton. I was at the farewell party and j remember thinking 'God, there goes Kyle. Always knew he'd make it out of this hell hole.' And then I thought, 'damn, there goes _Kyle.'_ Then the next day, when I saw a new flavour of ice cream that me and Karen could afford and I wanted to tell you and the guys about but I realised, 'damn, Ky's not here,' and then I realised that it _hurt,_ but at the time, I didn't know _why."_ His eyes started watering a little now. 

"I think I _started_ loving you when you told me my parka was stupid and I started crying, thinking you didn't like me anymore. But you told me the parka was stupid because it stopped you from being able to see the real me come out of my shell half the time. I remember when you took me to Stark's pond so we could give that stupid parka a proper Viking's funeral. I remember when it started to snow, like God himself was welcoming the new Kenny McCormick to the world now that he was finally finished with hiding in his stupid bulky hoods cause his best friend Kyle wanted to see him be himself. I… think I actually wanted to kiss you back then. And I wasn't sure if you did too, but then your mother called us home for dinner."

Kenny blinked back his tears. That was a precious memory. It snowed on the day Kyle left for college as well, as though he was saying farewell and taking the snow with him. Of course, that was silly. It still snowed constantly in South Park just like it did when Kyle was still around as well, but it never felt… for lack of better words… warm. Like it did when he was around. Like the shitty cold mountain town was a little less shitty and a little less cold when the fire of righteous fury could be found just across the tracks from Kenny's house. 

"I love that you bought Karen and I a slice of pizza for her first day at high school. I love that you weren't afraid to move to Princeton, that you weren't willing to stay complacent, do better than South Park. I just thought you'd always be willing to do better than… me." Kenny finally admitted. 

The clock chimed midnight in the distance, as the drunken cries of "Merry Christmas!" echoed down the benign streets, blissfully ignorant of the emotional turmoil that was taking place just in front of a lonely frozen fountain at the Denver Matzo Ball. 

Kenny coughed awkwardly. “So, yeah. Even though I know you're totally out of my league, I might, kinda, have a crush on you… Sorry?” Kenny said.

He tried to take his hand back from where Kyle was still holding onto it. His shock slackened grip was easy to slip out of now that Kenny had finished his ramblings. It was kinda cringey and gross, looking back on it now.

God Kenny wouldn't blame Kyle if he just called him a pussy and laughed it off. He had just quite honestly vomited an emotional vat of sludge all over the poor guy.

He took his hand back and held it in the other, feeling the residual warmth from Kyle's fingers echoing back onto his other hand. He looked away from the situation, unable to look at Kyle's eyes if what he said next was anything in the same veins of _"get out of my face."_

“So, it would be really important to me, if you could tell me once and for all, if you're like, straight or not. So I know if I should just get up and get over my stupid crush, or find out if maybe you could like me back?” Kenny asked.

He tried to keep the hopefulness out of his voice. He kept looking to the floor. He twisted the material of his skirt in his hands. Suddenly, Kenny gave a full-body shiver. Shit, his jacket was still laying discarded somewhere on the coat closet floor, and he'd forgotten to grab it on the way out. Thanks Elijah. This heart to heart was really taking longer than Kenny would have liked. He was getting antsy while Kyle carefully considered a response.

Kenny wishes he could have just said 'fuck it' and left a note written "Do you like me? Yes/No" and be done with it. No human interaction, no crippling disappointment. No hair raising anxiety. But no, he didn't have the balls to do it in high school, and he didn't have the balls to do it earlier tonight and so here they were. Out in the cold, dark, Denver night on Christmas fucking day. 

“Kenny …”

“Just tell me okay?” Kenny said quickly. “I won’t be mad if you say no, and that I still wouldn't have a chance if you weren't straight. Just please don’t be mad that I told you. It was embarrassing enough, you can rip on me later.”

There was a sharp exhale of air. Kenny looked up, betrayed. That sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Kyle was holding a hand, hiding his mouth, holding back any more. "I was just going to say 'do you want my jacket,' you look like you're freezing, but I guess I'll let you out of your misery and give you your answer." Kyle quietly chuckled.

Kenny felt the soft fleece-lined denim envelop his shoulders as Kyle gave him his jacket anyway. The jacket was a warm, comfortable weight, and the fleece tickled his shoulders. Kenny snuggled into the garment thankfully. Kyle took his hands in his own and looked at Kenny's eyes.

“I’m not mad. And I’m not gonna rip on you” Kyle assured. “That’s .. wow I can't say I was expecting that,” Kyle said, now it was his turn to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, I never really thought about putting a label on… on my sexuality. Since dating was never on the agenda anyway until I graduated. As you know, I tried dating both guys and girls and I don't know, I never really felt anything one way or the other. I mean I still liked sex, physically, but when I look at… people, It's like when he was designing me, God forgot to install the sexuality software and just went 'yeah that's done, send him in' and here I am. I'm not… attracted. So I guess the best word I can think of to describe myself _would_ be asexual.”

Kenny finally met his eyes. “Oh.”

“So like, would you never date anyone, or?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “God Kenny, would you listen to me? Just because I didn't exactly feel one way or the other doesn't mean I'm adverse to dating. I think I'd actually like to go on more dates. And if you're wondering, and I know you are because you're you, may I remind you I just said I think sex feels good and I don’t mind it. I enjoy it plenty, thank you very much, contrary to the population belief that I'm a prude and total stick in the mud. I just don’t think bodies are very sexy. Like, dicks are gross. It feels great to jack off, but dicks are gross. Sorry if that ruins some weird fantasies of yours where I wax poetic about the length of your dick Ken.” 

“Hey, my penis is very poetry worthy.” Kenny protested, too stunned to do anything but react automatically to the jab at the glory of his dick. 

“Yeah, for a haiku maybe.” Kyle retorted.

“Harsh, Broflovski.”

Kyle fidgeted for a bit, his fingers tracing circles on the backs of Kenny's hands. If Kenny could stay like this forever, he found he wouldn't mind. But also the suspension was killing him so he wishes Kyle would just spit it out already. "Date me? Yes/No" would've been so much simpler and straightforward. 

Kyle hesitated before continuing. “Yeah, sorry I don’t have a whole speech planned out, gushing about how I’ve always felt this way too or something. So this is gonna seem so lame in comparison to what you just told me, but I mean, you mean a lot to me too Ken. I missed you at college.”

“Really?” Kenny asked.

“Of course,” Kyle said, flushing slightly.

“Now, hear me out. I might not fantasize about riding your dick Ken, and I hope that's okay, but I … think I lov-like you too?”

Kenny’s jaw dropped. “You’re joshing me.”

“No, I’m not,” Kyle said emphatically. 

“Look, I … I like the way you are so unapologetically you. You don’t try to impress anyone, because you don't need to. You're perfectly content with just being _Kenny_ and not someone else's version of Kenny. You say I'm so fearless? Just look at me, Ken!” Kyle cried.

“Nothing about who I look like today was of my own choosing. My mother basically runs my life,” he said. "Everything was her idea, everything except this." Kyle held out his tie. 

Kenny looked at the wire wrapped bead of amber glinting on the pin that came with the tie. "I did wonder… why you kept it, " Kenny asked. 

"I kept it," Kyle answered, "because you gave it to me. I treasure your gifts, Ken, you make your things with love and care since you were a kid. You're an individual! Everything I've ever had has been to make me look the part of a perfect Jewish son."

"But you! Look at _you!_ " Kyle said, gesturing at Kenny. 

"You're Kenny! You wear dresses and you wear ripped jeans. You're from South Park and you're not sorry about it. You're the one who's confident in his own skin Kenny. I've always envied you for that-"

"Only because you told me to take off that damn parka." Kenny supplied. 

“-And I like how much you genuinely care for others, you fight for justice even if some people don’t deserve it.” Kyle continued, as if not hearing Kenny's interruption. 

“I like how you're humble, and real, and down to earth. You don't get caught up in all the bullshit, or let what others say hold you down and dictate where you're headed in life. I wish I could be like that, but it seems that all I can do is let what my mother says dictate my life."

Kyle pulled Kenny in by his hands and enveloped him in a heartfelt hug. Kenny felt his heart swelling. "I love that you're real with me, that you say it like it is and you care so much about me, even before you realised that you… that you had feelings for me. I appreciate that you took time overnight away from your sister on _Christmas_ _fucking Eve_ , to come to this _stupid_ Jewish social event and keep me company. Seriously, thanks for that Ken.”

Kyle pulled away, and turned Kenny to kiss him on the cheek. When he pulled away, Kenny rubbed the spot shyly, looking at Kyle with a measure of adoring and disappointment. And then, with some hesitation, Kyle threw caution to the wind and pulled Kenny in for a kiss. For real.

Kenny was frozen to the spot. He couldn't believe this was happening to him, after all that fear and uncertainty. It was tender and shy, but with a touch of experience. Like Kyle was holding back until he was more sure of himself where they stood. He felt wet track marks being rubbed away from his cheekbones. When did Kenny start crying? He looked and saw that Kyle now had a slight dusting of snow over his features from how long they had been standing out here. He brushed the stray flakes from his friend's face. The most familiar feeling of warmth was filling Kenny's chest. It was snowing, but it was _warm_.

There was a clock chiming somewhere, it was officially quarter past Christmas. In the background, Kenny could hear a bunch of people singing their cheers, and congratulations. There was a wolf whistle from some ogler on the other side of the street but the pair could have been in their own little world for all they cared. 

“I … I might not be ready to say I love you too yet, but with some work, I'd like to give it a try, and I hope to be able to say that too someday,” Kyle whispered. 

Kenny could hardly believe his ears.

“So…”

Kyle grinned, and he flicked a small smattering of snow into Kenny's face playfully. “So like, are you gonna officially ask me out now, or should I go look for Vanessa again?” He asked cheekily.

Kenny started. “What? No! Do not do that. No." Kenny quickly glued himself to Kyle's side and placed his forehead against Kyle's in an Eskimo kiss. He looked into the citrine stained hazel that promised to try to make themselves Kenny's. The spitfire, the passion, it all burned just below the surface of _promise_. 

"Kyle Broflovski, will you be my boyfriend and go on a lot of dates with me?” Kenny asked quickly. 

Kyle laughed. And tucked one of Kenny's arms around his waist. Kenny decided he quite liked his arm there, and tucked his hand into Kyle's back pocket cheekily. Kyle prodded him on the nose in response, but didn't make a move to remove his hand. 

“Sure Ken, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

"And let me shake your world all night long on many occasions. No takesies backsies, we're official!" Kenny crowed. 

Kyle laughed. "Only if you promise to be good at it."

"The best," Kenny assured, tucking his other arm under the redhead's knees. “Wait ‘till I tell Karen I got myself a boyfriend for Christmas!”

Kyle squawked indignantly as Kenny proudly lifted his new short, Jewish redheaded boyfriend off his feet in a swoop. He spun the indignant redhead around in a celebratory circle, and set him down before Kyle could start hitting at him to do so. 

"Fuck off Kenny, we get it, I'm short!"

"You say the sweetest things as my boyfriend," Kenny teased.

Back in his own two feet, Kyle shoved Kenny away playfully. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Merry Christmas to you too asshole, or whatever it is you Catholic sycophants say to each other.” Kyle said irritably, whacking him in the arms as ramification for _picking him up like a chick._ Kenny tried to shove him back and they both stumbled and held on to each other for support. "Shit, come on, let's call a cab. You definitely shouldn't have poured us as much wine as you did trying to dodge the ladies." Kenny scolded.

"You're the one who also spiked the mocktails." Kyle pointed out petulantly.

"Touché," Kenny acknowledged. “So like, should I have wished you a Happy _Hanukkah_ or something, as your new, shiny, dedicated boyfriend?” he asked.

Kyle snorted. “No, _Hanukkah_ ended like December eighteenth this year. You’re good.”

Kenny frowned. Then let me wish you a late Happy _Hanukkah_ ,” he said. “And as my first gift to you, let me bestow upon you a kiss from your boyfriend.” He leant in to smooch his grumpy said boyfriend, but Kyle dodged out of the way. “Nuh-uh. You’ll just have to make it up to me next year, Romeo,” he said playfully.

Kenny pouted, but preened on the inside at the promise of _next year._ He watched idly as Kyle dialled up an Uber driver to pick them up. The pair found a sheltered bench outside the venue for taxi drop-offs where they decided to sit and bask in each other's company. If basking in each other's company could be described as the smooth, rocking motion with which Kenny plastered himself into Kyle's front, skirts hiked up either side and in full view of the open road. Kenny initiated the kisses, and Kyle was receptive to every single one.

"I wonder if Ma will be mad that the 'special person' I met at the Matzo Ball was someone I already knew," Kyle asked cheekily in between lip-locking. "I'm sure Schwartz won't mind too much if I swap rooms with Alec tonight given the circumstances, what do you think?" 

Kenny grinned into his ministrations on the corner of Kyle's lips, finally getting to card his fingers through the coveted ginger cloud and poked his boyfriend on the _schnoz_ playfully. "Why Kyle, I never knew you had it in you. We're officially _Matzo hussies_."

"Don't you _dare_."

* * *

Afterwards, on the Uber ride home, it was one am and long since Cinderella had fled the ball. But there was no need for a glass slipper to be left behind, as Kyle had his Cinderella right there next to him, with his head in his lap.

The streets were quiet and empty, the car was well heated and they were blessed with a quiet drive, save for the low rumble of the car and the crackle of the radio as Christmas carols quietly ebbed from the tinny speakers. The driver wasn't much for small talk or questions, and Kyle spent the drive playing with Kenny's soft hair. It looked almost silver in the moonlight. Like gunmetal, hiding darkness and grace. Kenny had a lot of secrets, Kyle could tell. But maybe with time, when Kyle could love him for real, Kenny would tell him his secrets.

Schwartz, Alec and Levy had stayed behind to enjoy the ball to the fullest, vouching to stay for the full three am experience. Something about getting the most value out of their tickets if Kyle heard correctly when he phoned in to tell them he and Kenny were headed off.

Truth be told, he never really thought he'd be one to hook up with Kenny McCormick. God only knows what his mother would say to him when she picked them up in the morning, but he'd handle it. He's sure. 

Kyle noticed Kenny stirring. He was looking out the window, his eyelashes tickling Kyle's hand as his fingers moved through his new boyfriend's hair. 

"What are you thinking about?" Kyle asked softly. 

Kenny hummed. He was quiet, thinking a bit before answering carefully. “So, remember I mentioned on the car ride here, that this was just like the time you let me tag along with you to Jew Scouts when we were kids?” Kenny asked. 

“Yeah? ” Kyle replied. 

“Do you remember that there was also a meteor shower that night? It was kind of a big deal, but we missed the viewing because of the whole, devil-worshipping camp counsellor thing."

"Yeah, I remember. It was a real shame too, cause I heard it was beautiful." Kyle replied. 

"Well, I was thinking about it,” Kenny said. He took Kyle's hand from fiddling with his hair and inspected it in the moonlight. He laced his fingers between Kyle's own and held them towards the window. 

“And when I… left camp. I actually did see the meteor shower. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," Kyle said. "I thought you died," he said playfully, elbowing Kenny lightly.

Kenny smiled. "Yeah, so I did. Well, I think I made a wish when I saw that meteor," he admitted. "I really appreciated you inviting me to join you at Jew Scouts when everyone else had made plans. I think I wasn’t sure I liked guys back then, but I still liked sex and tits, so I think I wished for something dumb like 'I wish I could have a girlfriend as good to me as my best friend Kyle' back then.'” 

Kyle snorted, taking his hand back. He tucked the hair from Kenny's face fondly. “That is pretty dumb. I heard Kyle is a terrible boyfriend. He’s not even gay.”

Kenny laughed as he knocked back Kyle's hands from his face, and sat up to give him a brief kiss. “Nah, I think Kyle’s the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for. Cause he’s perfect just the way he is.”

Kyle wasn’t looking to hook up with someone at the Matzo Ball. But somehow, a childhood crush snuck up on him that night. And he couldn’t help but feel like, this one was special somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I APOLOGISE FOR THE INCONSISTENT WHO'S LOOKING AT WHO, REPETITIVE HAND HOLDING, FLUSHING, AND REPETITIVE WHERE ARE THEY FUCKING LOOKING PAN, JUST TELL ME. But I kind of just wanted to get this out there before I lost my goddamned mind agonizing over writing this chapter. In case you can't tell, I CAN'T WRITE LOVE CONFESSION SCENES. Actually, there's a lot I can't write, but you'll never improve if you don't practice am I right? So, I posted this *gestures vaguely* word vomit, and hoped for the best. So I acknowledge and apologise it's not the most eloquent of chapters, but I did my best that I could before growing sick of looking at it and just hitting post. Thank you all, for reading my October Christmas/Hanukkah fic. Why didn't I write a Halloween fic instead? Cause I wanted to write about a fancy ball and make a joke about Cinderella. 
> 
> LEXICON
> 
> Chai - life
> 
> schnoz - nose

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was important to me, to write about a naturalized, bilingual household with strict, controlling parents with high expectations, and to write about an asexual character. 
> 
> I was originally going to make this a "Kyle is gay" fic, but figured it'd be more interesting to validate Kyle's The Fractured But Whole superhero character sheet of him being Asexual. I mean, Kyle might not even stay asexual forever, sexuality is fluid. But most fics you never read about asexuality, and so it was important to me as a self-proclaimed asexual, that I write about a fic explaining that you don't have to exclude asexual characters from shipping. Characters can have happy, active sex lives in meaningful relationships without necessarily being sexually attracted to their partner, just romantically attracted. 
> 
> I also thought it would be interesting to write if one party hadn't fallen in love yet, but was willing to give the relationship a go, in hopes they /could/ fall in love with the other. It's not always 'when you confess, the other person is ready' after all, so I wanted to write about that. I mean don't get me wrong, this isn't an overly personal fic or anything, just an experimentation to write more diversely and delve into the opportunity to write about an asexual character I could somewhat relate to, given all the stereotypes about high expectations just because you're an academically gifted Asian/Jewish person.
> 
> As a side note, as a said asexual, I apologise in advance if my "lovey dovey' romantic/sexual shit is cringe as fuck. I can't write romance what even is sex, what?


End file.
